Why Am I Special?
by venusmercurysunev
Summary: BEING REVAMPED. AU. Elizabeth Scott, a 19 year old student at GWU, is shocked when the FBI tell her that an infamous criminal mastermind, Raymond Reddington, wants to work with her catching criminals. Her life will never be the same again...NOT A FAMILY RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN REDxLIZ.
1. Ranko Zamani

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN BLACKLIST!**

**Why Am I Special?**

**Case 1: Ranko Zamani**

_**A/N: Although this fic is set in America with American characters, please bear in mind that I am a British writer, so some words/phrases/sentence structure may sound odd to American readers. Thank you for your patience!**_

From the moment she set eyes on him, she knew her life would never be the same again. A harmless looking balding man in his mid-fifties, strapped into a chair in the middle of a large glass and metal box. He didn't look as she had expected. After they had 'briefed' her on the 'situation', she had imagined a huge man with bulging muscles, probably covered in tattoos and old wounds and scars. But there he sat, simply looking ahead of him into the middle distance. But she had the strangest feeling that although she was in a different room and hidden behind a one-way mirror, that he knew she was there. And he was waiting for her.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Are you ready?"

She took a deep breath through her nose and nodded. "I'm ready." It was more of a self-assertion than an answer to the question.

"You don't have to do this if you don't-"

"I want to." She cut across sharply, telling the truth. "I _want _to talk to him." She stated firmly with another nod.

"You don't have to stay with him for long. Any time you want to leave, you can. If you need anything, we're here."

She stared at the caged man for a few more seconds, leaning forward and bracing herself by her hands. Swallowing thickly, she straightened up. "Open the door."

How had this happened? Why had it happened? And why to her? That was what she didn't understand. Why her? She was nothing special, just a History student, barely nineteen, just moved in with her boyfriend – soon, she hoped, fiancé. After sleeping in for more than an hour after they were supposed to and were only awoken by Hudson, their six month old puppy who had only been with them for a few weeks, as he yipped at them from the floor and tugging at the corner of the blankets on the bed, she and Tom had had to race around the house to get ready in world record time. Tom had quickly taken Hudson out into the garden for his morning business while she shovelled – in a ladylike way – the salad she had made to be her lunch into her mouth.

On their way out of the door, she heard Hudson barking. "I feel like a mother leaving the baby at home."

"Babe, we've left him before. And he's got to learn to be on his own sometimes – mummy and daddy can't be around all the time." Tom distracted her by asking if she wanted to go 'shopping' after she got home from college and he finished work. Knowing that Tom hated shopping, she concluded that this must be a 'special' shopping trip. She smiled widely, giving him a long and slow kiss. Then they had been surrounded by an assembly of large black 4x4s and even a helicopter. A blonde FBI agent had asked her to confirm her name as Elizabeth Scott and a student at George Washington University. After she had handed her textbooks to Tom and shown them her student card with shaking hands, she had been asked to 'accompany' them. The looks on everyone's faces told her that wasn't a request. She had nodded numbly and climbed into the back of the closest car, had a hood put over her head and was then whisked away at break-neck speed.

The car had finally slowed to stop. Doors opened and she was roughly 'helped' out of the car, the hood removed. Briefly disorientated from the drive, she didn't have chance to look around before she was escorted down corridors and led into an office. The blonde agent, Ressler, snapped at her to sit down opposite the large desk. He and an armed guard stayed in the room with her. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she absently noted to herself that she had already missed her first two classes of the day. They waited only a few minutes before the door opened and a tall man in a suit entered. He smiled at her, shook her shaking hand and sat down behind the desk.

"Good morning Miss Scott. I'm Assistant Director Cooper of Counter Terrorism."

"Elizabeth Scott, sir."

"I know." He smiled again, holding up a brown file. Her file. "Tell me, Miss Scott-"

"Liz." She interjected nervously before she could stop herself. By the awkward silence that followed, she realised she probably shouldn't have said anything. "Sorry."

"Tell me, Liz, have you ever heard of a man called Raymond Reddington?"

"Who?" She frowned in confusion. "Is this a joke?" She glanced between Cooper and Ressler, who was glaring at her. "Not a joke then. No sir, I've never heard that name."

"He's number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list."

Her stomach clenched. "I'm not really up to date with that list, sir…"

"He worked for the FBI twenty-something years ago, until he disappeared one night. A few years later, several government contacts were revealed, which were traced back to him. He's been off the grid for more than twenty years, becoming quite prolific in the criminal world. The only significant blip on the radar was fifteen years ago; a woman in Maryland reported that her husband and father of her child was missing, on Christmas Eve. The police investigated, took DNA samples and they matched Reddington's. Since then, nothing. That was until a few hours ago. Reddington turned himself in to us. We asked him why and he told us he could help us catch an 'associate' of his, Ranko Zamani."

"That's generous of him." She stated suspiciously.

"That offer came with a condition."

"Of course."

"He says that he will only talk to you."

"You wanna tell us why?" Ressler growled, making her look between them.

Her stomach twisted again. "I-I don't understand."

"One of the most wanted men in America wants to talk to you – why?" Cooper asked calmly.

"I don't know." She sucked in a shaky breath. "You sure it's me? I can't be the only Elizabeth Scott-"

Ressler snapped, "Are you Elizabeth Scott?"

"Yes."

"Are you a student at GWU?"

"Yes."

"We've checked the university's database – you're the only Elizabeth Scott on record there. It's you."

"It says here that you're a History student." Cooper made it sound like a question.

"Yes sir, I'm in my second year."

"The FBI has a process of psychological analysis called profiling, ever heard of it?"

"Yes sir."

"Do us a favour? Profile yourself." Cooper suggested.

She stared at him. "Pardon?"

"Profile Elizabeth Scott. What is she like? Tell us about her."

"Oh, um, okay." She fidgeted nervously, adjusting the hem of her t-shirt. "Well she's nineteen, originally from Nebraska, moved to DC for college about 18 months ago-"

Cooper interrupted with a smile. "I've read up on you."

She laughed nervously, her fingers instinctively starting to stroke the angry scar on her right palm. "Of course you have." She hesitated before starting. "Her high school class mates called her Freak. She's a bit of an outsider, a loner. Like most kids who had troubled upbringings, she can display narcissistic behaviour; she can be withdrawn, disconnected, but then the next moment she's more hyper than her new puppy. She deludes herself with the idea that she can rewrite her own past by having kids of her own one day with her boyfriend that she's desperate to marry but can't seem to find the words to tell him what she wants…"

"So why do you think Reddington chose today to hand himself in?"

"I don't know, sir. I mean…It's not a birthday or an anniversary…I have no idea, sir." She shrugged.

"Why you? Why did Reddington pick Elizabeth Scott, specifically?"

"Probably because he hopes to take advantage of her youth and inexperience." She was about to continue, then hesitated.

Cooper noticed. "And?"

"And if that is the reason why he chose her," She straightened up in the chair, suddenly feeling stronger about the situation, "He obviously doesn't know me very well."

That seemed to be the right thing to say. Ressler and Cooped looked at each other. "We'd like you to see him. If you feel up to it."

"Yes sir. I'm up to it." Cooper smiled again, stood up and escorted her through more corridors and into an observation room. "I thought he'd be bigger." She joked quietly as she looked out in to the large open holding room.

A loud alarm brought her back to the present moment, watching the large door to the Box swing open as the whole thing started to move back, leaving Reddington exposed to the room. Ressler opened the door into the 'Box room', as they called it, and allowed her to step through. She descended a short metal staircase slowly, her eyes trained on the face of the bound man. She nearly faltered when his eyes opened and he gave her a genuine and sweet smile, his eyes locked with hers. As she drew nearer, an armed guard placed a chair a few feet away from Reddington. When she was close enough, she settled herself into it, crossing her jean-clad legs, folding her hands in her lap.

Reddington waited a few seconds for the alarm to stop, before giving a soft laugh. "Elizabeth Scott. Such a pleasure to see you."

"Well, here I am." She gave a little shrug and smile.

He looked her over. "You got rid of your highlights." She tensed, her smile gone. How did he know she'd had highlights once? "You look much less Baltimore."

"I'm not here to talk about me."

He seemed to ignore her. "You moved here for college, didn't you? Over a year ago?" He sighed. "I haven't been home in years."

"Why did you ask to see me?" She snapped again, nervously picking at a thread on her knee, unable to look at him. "I'm nothing special, I'm nobody. I'm just a kid."

"No. I think you're _very_ special, Lizzie."

It was odd but that one sentence made her feel strangely comforted. "I doubt that; I can count on one hand the people I've been special to. And my name's not Lizzie. It's 'Liz'. To you I'll be 'Miss Scott'." He laughed. "I made you laugh." She observed with a wry smile.

He nodded. "You did. So brave in front of one of the FBI's Most Wanted."

"Well you're only number four." She joked. He laughed again. "I take it you wanted to talk to me about a friend of yours. Zamani, am I saying that right?" He didn't respond, just kept smiling. "Look, Mr Reddington-"

"You can call me Red if you'd like, Lizzie."

She frowned at the name he now seemed determined to use for her. "Mr Red-"

"You don't have to use 'Mr'." He chuckled.

She huffed, rubbing her eyes in frustration. "I had a bag put over my head on the way here. I've been questioned by the FBI and they're probably going through my internet history as we speak. And I've already missed three classes so far…I mean, this is definitely more interesting than most of my lectures but still…You wanted to talk to me for a reason. So talk to me."

Reddington sighed resignedly. "Within the hour, Ranko Zamani will abduct the daughter of US General Daniel Riker. There'll be some kind of diversion, communications will go down, and then he'll grab the girl. He wants to be out of the country within thirty-six hours. If you don't move quickly, she will die. That's what I know."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I got him into the country." He answered smoothly.

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

He laughed. "No, of course not! I'm a criminal, Lizzie. Criminals are notorious liars. Everything about me is a lie." He looked at her closely, making it hard for her to resist the urge to shuffle in the seat. "But if anyone will give me a second chance, it'll be you. We've both overcome so much. I mean look at you – abandoned by your father who was a criminal. A mother who died of shame. But here you are, about to make a name for yourself, about to capture Ranko Zamani. I'm going to make you famous, Lizzie."

!"!

She couldn't take any more. She shot up out of the chair and almost ran back to the observation room, ripping the door open and slamming it shut behind her. "What the hell have you told him about me?!"

"What are you talking about?" Ressler asked.

"How could he know those things? Personal things, about my family! I've never told anyone those things!"

"Why didn't your father's record show up when we checked you out?" He demanded.

She ignored him, looking straight at Cooper. "I think you should send someone to the girl."

Ressler scoffed. "Sir, this is a bluff-"

Annoyed by his attitude, she demanded, "Why would he lie to me straight away when he clearly wants me to trust him?"

"Miss Scott, I've been working Reddington's case for five years-" He started with a patronising tone of voice.

"Yeah, and where have those five years gotten you?" She effectively silenced him. She turned back to Cooper. "You brought me here, you wanted me to speak to him, you want my opinion? That girl _will _be taken." She started to shake. "Excuse me." She rushed past them out into an empty corridor, paced for a second before bending over and taking deep breaths. "Oh god…" With shaking hands, she took her phone out of her pocket, dialled Tom's number and waited for him to pick up.

"_Liz? Liz, what's wrong? What was this morning about?"_

"It was the FBI, they've brought me somewhere, they-they wanted my help with something."

"_What? What's going on?"_

"Babe, I don't know if I can tell you…" She heard footsteps approaching her. She looked up and saw Ressler walking over, her coat in his hands.

"Good show in there. Now pull it together – you've called in the cavalry." He thrust her coat into her hands.

"Yeah, I-I just need a minute to-"

"You don't have a minute. Come on, we gotta go." He brushed past her and headed down the corridor.

She put the phone back to her ear. "Tom? I gotta go. There's a girl, something's happened…They need my help." In front of her, she saw Ressler roll his eyes.

"_Do you…I don't know…Do you think you'll be in for dinner?"_

She almost laughed at the domestic bliss her life was. Every day she was grateful for having Tom in her life. "I don't know, I don't think so."

"_Baby, if this…If this is too soon for you, we don't have to do it yet! We can do it in a year or two!"_

Ressler barked at her, "Scott, we gotta go!"

She ignored him again, half-turning away to have some privacy. "No! _We_ are the only thing that matter. Okay? The only thing. I love you, Tom Keen. Okay?" She could almost hear his gorgeous smile as he told her he loved her too. "I'll see you soon." She hung up before Ressler could shout at her again, climbing into the car that sped off before she'd even closed the door fully.

!"!

A voice came through the car's phone and told them that the General's daughter was at a ballet lesson. They headed straight to the studio, Liz, Ressler and two heavily armed guards hurrying through the doors. Ressler approached the reception and told the woman behind the desk the situation. She quickly led them down a corridor decorated with various portraits of dancing women. As they drew closer to the room, Liz turned to the guards.

"Guys, please, the guns. Don't scare the kids." They nodded and hung back a few paces. Ressler made to follow Liz into the room but she stopped him too. As she was about to step into the hall, she turned back to Ressler, spotting his small pin of an American flag. "Give me your pin."

"What?"

"Your pin, I'm going to give it to her." He huffed but removed it. She put it in her pocket and followed the teacher over to a little girl, probably about six years old. Liz heard the teacher call her Beth as she told Beth to go with her. Liz crouched down to Beth's level and smiled kindly. "Hey Beth, don't be scared, I just need you to come with me, okay?" She took Beth's hand and led her out the studio, past Ressler and the guards. "Have you got a coat?" The girl nodded and led her over to a peg with her name on it. Liz picked up the pink coat, helping Beth put it on. Beth slipped off her ballet shoes as Liz got her little boots ready, helping her slip those on too. Liz took her hand again and led her down the corridor back out to the cars.

"Go in the middle one." Ressler ordered, climbing in the front vehicle.

Liz opened the back door of the middle vehicle, lifting Beth into the large car. She fastened her seat belt, closed the door and quickly got in the other side. "Ready? We're just going for a drive, okay? We're gonna keep you safe." Liz fastened her own seatbelt and turned back to Beth, checking her seatbelt. "So your name's Beth, yeah?" The girl nodded shyly. "My name's Beth too! I'm Elizabeth, but my friends call me Liz. You can call me Liz if you want." She pulled Ressler's pin out of her pocket. "You know what this is, Beth?"

"My daddy has a pin like that."

Liz gave her a big smile. "He does? I bet your daddy has loads of medals. I think you should have this pin, 'cos to get this pin you have to be really brave." She and Beth smiled at each other as Liz pinned it to the girl's coat. Without a word, Beth pulled off her multi-coloured bracelet with animal pendants and put it on Liz's wrist. "Oh wow!" She gushed breathily, adjusting the bracelet to be comfortable. "You don't have to-" Beth smiled at her again. "Thank you, Beth, this is so beautiful!"

"This one's Pokey, you gotta be careful."

"Okay, I promise!"

Liz kept Beth talking throughout the drive. When they were crossing over a bridge, a man in bright coloured overalls waved a STOP sign at them. Liz watched as Ressler talked to the man for a minute before signalling to the driver of the car to turn around. The driver told her that there was a chemical spill on the road so they would have to turn around. It never occurred to Liz that Reddington had warned of a diversion. She asked Beth if she wanted to call her dad, and she nodded.

"Do we have the number-"

The impact was intense. She was thrown to the side, feeling the seatbelt cut into her neck as the car was pushed by a huge truck. Shattered glass sprayed over all of them as the car rolled onto its side, moving for a few more seconds before stopping. Liz called out to Beth, making sure she was okay. She unclipped her seatbelt, crouching down in front of the girl, unfastening her seatbelt too and helping her sit up, holding her against her side protectively.

"Take this!" The second guard pushed a gun into Liz's hands. "Careful, it's loaded and ready to fire! Just point and shoot!"

"I can't see, I've got glass in my eyes!" The driver called out, just as bullets were fired through the windscreen, killing both him and the second guard. Liz's face was splattered with blood, shocking her into action.

"Cover your ears, honey!" Grunting at the recoil on the gun and the shockwaves sent through her untrained wrists, she shot a few times through one of the windows, hitting a man a few times. Sure he was dead, she turned to the other window and shot again, taking down another man. Then she ran out of bullets. Looking around for a fresh clip, she was startled by a voice coming from on top of the car.

"Don't shoot! If you want to save the girl, give her this." A gas mask was dangled a foot above her.

Looking between that and Beth's terrified but trusting face, Liz was torn. She had no more ammo – or if there was, she couldn't find it and didn't know how to reload the now useless gun – and their attackers were going to gas them with something harmful or possibly even deadly. Gasping in frustration, she reached up and pulled the gas mask out of the man's hand.

"Okay, honey, we gotta put this on you. This smoke'll hurt us so you have to wear this, okay?" She helped Beth put the mask on, making sure it was fastened.

"What about you?" Beth asked, her voice muffled through the mask.

Liz glanced upwards, only to see a hand counting down on its fingers. "There's only one, for you. Now listen," She held Beth's face gently, looking into her eyes, "These men are going to take you."

"Are they gonna hurt me?"

"No, baby, they're not going to hurt you. I'm going to find you, Beth, okay? I promise!" A canister was thrown into the car, landing by their feet. Not half a second later, cream gas started pouring out of it, quickly making Liz's throat itch and eyes burn. She felt Beth being lifted out of the car. "Beth, I'll find you! I will!"

When Beth was out of the car, Liz scrambled around looking for a new clip for the gun, knowing that the attackers weren't just going to leave her alive. Grasping a fresh one in her bleeding hand, she held the gun closer to her face, her burning eyes making it difficult to see. Feeling a notch on the side of the gun, she pulled it experimentally, relieved to feel the empty magazine drop out. She shoved the new clip into the gun when she started coughing. She coughed into her hand for a second, blinking rapidly to try and clear her eyesight.

Unbeknownst to her, a shadow loomed. A gun rose. A shot fired. Realising that she was still alive, she looked up. Struggling to her feet in the tight space, she grabbed hold of the top of the car and started to pull herself out, barely feeling the pieces of glass going into her palms. Struggling to find any purchase under her feet, she used her arms to get out, awkwardly climbing until her torso was free. Shifting to the side, she sat on the car door, swung her legs free and jumped down onto the concrete of the road. She hurried away on wobbling legs, only getting a few feet away before a massive explosion behind her knocked her forward. She coughed again as she struggled to get to her feet. Motor sounds were heard from below. She jogged shakily over to the railing of the bridge, seeing two little boats speeding away, Beth's pink coat standing out amongst the yellow overalls of the kidnappers.

What was going to happen now?

!"!

Back up and ambulances arrived on the scene only a few minutes later. After she had seen Beth being taken away, Liz had sunk to the floor in despair as the adrenaline left her system, leaving her shaking like a leaf. Ressler ran over to her after minute, soaking wet and dripping. He took the gun off her and looked over her bleeding hands and face. She hadn't noticed that her left temple had also been cut by glass, a wide trail of blood trickling down her face and neck, staining her scarf. Ressler helped her stand and waited with her until the ambulances arrived, getting her seen to right away. Thankfully none of the cuts on her face or hands were very deep so she wouldn't need stitches but they did put a band-aid on her temple and wrap her hands, the paramedic trying to cheer her up by telling her she could pass as a boxer. Liz didn't laugh, or even smile. Inside she felt too guilty about what had happened. She had promised Beth she would keep her safe. And instead she had practically handed her over to the kidnappers.

Ressler put her in a car and she sat in the back silently as she was driven back to 'the Post Office'. Cooper began asking her questions as soon as he saw her, a grim look on his face. Apparently Beth's father, the General, was in his office and was calling for blood. Liz just nodded dumbly, not really hearing him. She headed straight to the observation room, looking through the mirror at Reddington. He had known that this would happen. Surely he knew what would happen next? She reached out for the door handle, but Cooper's hand gripping her arm stopped her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to talk to him."

"No, not yet."

"What? Why not?!"

"Because we can't rule out that he was involved. And if he was, we have to wait until his people make a demand."

"Can Beth wait that long?" She snarled, pulling her arm out of his grip and ripping the door open. She heard Cooper sigh. She stormed down the staircase as the door to the Box opened, but the whole thing didn't move back as it had done earlier. Reddington watched her approach, her face set like thunder. "Where is she?" She demanded as she got closer. "It's been two hours! Are your people going to make a demand or not?"

He waited a second before replying. "'My people'? I told you Zamani would take the girl. I told you that was all I knew. This is in your hands now, Lizzie."

"I need your help with Zamani, Red." She stepped closer, one foot resting on the higher platform of the floor of the Box. She knew that Red saw that as an aggressive body language tactic but she didn't care. He didn't seem fazed by the action either.

"How about a trade? I'll tell you about Zamani if you tell me about the scar on your palm."

She hesitated, her right hand instinctively clenching as if to shield the scar. "There was a fire when I was fourteen."

"Someone tried to hurt you?" If she hadn't been listening closely enough, she would have easily missed the undercurrent of anger in his question. Why was he angry at the thought of someone hurting her?

She sighed, walking into the box and sitting down on the metal bench next to Reddington. "No, not exactly."

"May I see it?" She paused for only a second before slowly unwrapping her hand. When the bandage fell away, she extended her palm to him and pulled her sleeve back slightly, allowing him to see the Y shaped mark that ran from the flesh of her palm down over her wrist. He examined it closely, his eyes moving over it. After a second she pulled her hand back, rewrapping it carefully. When she looked up at him again, he smiled at her. His eyes bored into hers. He frowned as he asked, "Do you really want to get married at nineteen?"

"Okay, how could you possibly-?!"

"A husband won't fix your past-"

"You have no right to speak about family when you abandoned your wife and child on Christmas Eve!" She snarled. He had the grace to look slightly ashamed, though not for long. "The girl. Now."

"You won't find her until you learn to look closer."

She scoffed. "And just how should they look at it?"

"Not them. You."

"Me? Why me? I tried to help and look what happened – Beth still got taken."

"You have to do it because that was the deal I made with them." He smirked at her as he nodded his head at the observation room.

"You're going to force me to do something I really don't want to do?"

He smiled. "No."

"Good." She huffed, standing up and starting to walk away.

"I won't be forcing you because you're going to do it willingly." Liz stopped and turned back around. "You want to get her back."

Liz swallowed thickly. "They took her right out of my hands. If we hadn't gone to collect her and put her in that car-"

"She would have been taken at another time. A time when she wouldn't have had someone with her to make her feel safe."

"How do you know I-"

He pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "Why else would you feel so obviously guilty?"

"Okay. I want to get her back. You know how. So tell me how."

!"!

Reddington had grinned at her request and nodded. Liz had gone back to the observation room and asked Cooper to release him into the Briefing Room so that they could all discuss what to do next. Cooper, impressed by how Liz had handled Reddington, agreed. Reddington was released from the chair, though his hands were still handcuffed together in front of him. Liz went straight into the Briefing room, gathering all the documents and files onto one table, displaying them clearly in case they were needed – stressful situations brought out her 'organisational side', or OCD. While Reddington was being released, she looked over to the evidence boards that Ressler and the team had put together. She knew it would be pointless for her to look them over – she wasn't FBI, she didn't know any names or recognises any faces – but she was involved and she was hell-bent on getting Beth back alive and safe.

A pair of armed guards brought Reddington through to the BR, letting him walk around the office as he examined everything. Cooper stood with his arms crossed, a finger tensely touching his lip. Liz gathered that was a habit of his. Ressler was near the front of the room with his hands on his hips and a wide stance, obviously trying to be seen as the man in charge of the case. Body language was a telling thing. Reddington also looked over the evidence boards, leaning in close to take everything in.

"Well at least you know what Zamani looks like." He mocked as he inspected all the pictures of the Serbian terrorist. He looked closer at an image. "Oh I haven't seen that guy for years! Very interesting fellow. And completely unrelated to this." Ressler bristled in irritation. Another picture of two men getting out of a car. One of them had an arrow pointing to him. "No, you're pointing at the wrong guy." He moved that picture and put a picture of an explosion over the first man, leaving only the second visible. Ressler tried to tell him off for moving pictures but Reddington just continued. "Miraslov. They call him the Chemist. Very skilled munitions expert. Quit MIT to work for Russians. For the past two years he's been a very expensive freelancer." He moved on to another evidence board. "What the hell is all this?" He muttered to himself, moving on. "Oh, the German. The Banker, called Reinnard. He's probably moving the money." He put the Banker next to the Chemist and Zamani. "So, Lizzie," Liz's head popped up out of the file she had been reading on Beth's father, "What do we have so far?"

"Well I don't know, do I?"

He turned his torso around so he could scrutinise her. "Yes you do. Come on." He nodded his head to the evidence boards. She sighed under her breath and moved forward, aware that she was now the centre of attention.

"Reddington, what do you expect-" Ressler started to snap, waving his hand at Liz.

"Shut up, Donald." He tossed back easily. "Now, Lizzie, what's going on here? What's the story?" He gestured to the new board of evidence he had arranged.

She looked at him and whispered, "Red, how can I-"

"Stop talking and _think_."

Liz took a deep breath, took off her hoodie and looked over the new evidence board. "Your thirty-six hour timeline probably means just one event. Definitely in the city. An attack?" She guessed with a shrug.

"You're thinking like a cop." Reddington criticised, frowning disapprovingly at her. "Cops are useless, they're limited by protocols."

"So what do you want me to do?" She snapped.

"Make this personal. What about the girl-"

"Beth."

"What do we have on her and her father?"

Liz went back to the table and picked up the General's file. "Um, he started military school when he was-"

"Lizzie."

She looked up and Reddington was frowning again. With a small huff, she closed the file and held it against her chest, her arms crossed over it, as if to fight the temptation to read it again. "The General spent time in Bosnia, near where Zamani grew up. That can't be just a co-incidence."

"The screens behind us." Reddington hinted, his eyes locked on Liz's face.

She looked up at the computer screens above their heads. One held a map of Bosnia, a biohazard warning symbol near the city where Zamani lived. "The General and his squad bombed a chemical weapons station, hundreds of miles of land were destroyed or irradiated." Something connected in Liz's brain. "Zamani's family died in the blast. But he survived. And now he's dying. And dying makes anyone dangerous."

"So what does he want before he dies?" Reddington whispered.

"Revenge. Zamani lost his family because of the General…So now he's going to even the score. You said the Chemist is a 'munitions' expert – I take it you mean bombs?" She asked Reddington, who just kept smiling. "Bombs then. Zamani hired the Chemist to build a bomb – probably chemical from his history – and he's going to detonate it in DC."

"Why the girl?"

Liz's eyes flicked between a picture of Beth and one of a younger Zamani with his family. "She's going to be the deliverer. She'll be right at the centre of the explosion. She won't stand a chance."

Reddington looked at her with something akin to pride as the office began to bustle with activity. Cooper and Ressler approached them.

"How do we find them?" Cooper asked, his finger still on his lips.

"I have a contact, the Innkeeper. He runs some safe-houses. Lean on him. He'll know where the Chemist is."

"Good work." Ressler spoke in Liz's ear.

"Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Liz turned around to ask him what he meant but he was already walking away. Cooper and Reddington were arguing.

Cooper asked sarcastically, "You think we're going to put you up in the Sheraton?"

Reddington just laughed. "Not to worry, Harold. The Sheraton isn't my scene."

!"!

Liz looked around the suite that Reddington was now being housed in, and knew that she would probably never get to experience a hotel like this in her life. Most of the FBI agents shared her awe, trying and failing to disguise how they were also looking at the large and opulent rooms. Reddington, however, looked perfectly at home, sitting down regally in an overstuffed armchair.

"What do you think, Lizzie?"

"It's very you." She replied with a trite smile. "Personally I think the Box is much more comfortable."

Reddington chuckled. "You've got a lovely sense of humour, Lizzie. Why don't you sit down? We can talk some more. You could tell more jokes."

"No thanks. I'm going to head home for a while."

"Lizzie-"

"Until we find the Chemist there's nothing to do for Beth. So I'm going home for a shower and a bite to eat." She didn't wait for a reply before leaving.

!"!

An FBI agent drove her home. When she arrived, the sun was just setting, putting the time around six. She unlocked the door with her key, letting herself in. She called out for Tom, having seen his car parked outside. She didn't get an answer as she toed off her flat boots. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked it and saw a text from an unknown number. '_FOUND CHEMIST AND LAB. NO BOMB AT SCENE. RESSLER_.' She typed a quick reply. '_Bomb built? Liz - NOT SCOTT! :)_'. She knew it was probably childish to add the smiley face but Ressler had annoyed her today.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sign propped up on a chair in the living room. "I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU' was written in gold glitter on the white card. There were gold and silver balloons everywhere. And a red ring box on a cushion. Liz's heart almost exploded in excitement as she bounded into the living room and hugging the box to her chest as she laughed in joy. Tom sat at the dining table with his back to her. She skipped into the room, seeing a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket on the kitchen counter, two full flutes next to it.

"Well I have to say, baby, it's about time!" She giggled as she turned around to look at Tom. And she wished she hadn't. "Tom?" He was tied to the chair, his shirt stained with blood. His nose was bleeding and looked broken. Blood trickled from his hairline. He was bleeding into one of his eyes. His bloodied and torn clothes hid any further injuries. Liz dropped the champagne flute and rushed to Tom, when a gun pressed into the side of her head. She turned her head slowly and saw Ranko Zamani.

"Sit down please." She hesitated through fear. "Sit down!" He shouted.

"Okay, okay." She said as calmly as she could, holding Tom's hand. From the feel of the bones, it was also broken.

"Do as I say, or I'll shoot your boyfriend. Tom and I have been talking-"

"Yeah, I can see that!" Liz bit back, adrenaline rushing into her system for the second time that day. Zamani glared at her and punched Tom in the stomach. He groaned in pain behind the duct tape covering his mouth. "No! Tom, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Be quiet, Eh-leez-eh-bit! I told Tom that the FBI figured out my plan," From his pocket he pulled out some pills, popped them in his mouth and swallowed, "To take the General's daughter. It was a bit of a surprise, but my people handled it quite well, I think."

"Tom, it's going to be okay." Liz said quietly, gently stroking his hand, being careful not to cause him more pain.

"But then," Zamani continued as he pulled out a pocket knife and opened it, "You were there. And you are too young to be FBI. So my people dug deeper. You are just a student. You are no-one special. So why were you there, Eh-leez-eh-bit? Hmmm?"

"I don't know, they just called me and asked me to help-"

Zamani clearly didn't believe her, stabbing Tom in his left forearm. Liz screamed and Tom cried out, but his voice was muffled. Zamani continued, unfazed. "And then the FBI came for my Chemist friend. I had finished with him so they saved me from payment. Thank you." He smiled sweetly at Liz. "And it made me wonder what else you know." His smile dropped. "What else do you know?"

"N-Nothing, I don't know anything." Her eyes shifted to Tom, who was looking weaker. "Tom-"

"No, no, no, look here." Zamani ordered, beckoning her with his hand. There was a strange mark on the back of his hand. "I ask the questions. What else do you know?"

"They-They think a bomb. They knew about the girl, but they're guessing on the rest." Zamani didn't believe her again, this time stabbing Tom's thigh. "You bastard!" She screamed.

"What else do you know?"

"Nothing!"

He laughed. "You're not as smart as Reddington says." Somewhere in Liz's mind, that registered. "My friend, he is obsessed with you. I don't see why." He pulled the knife out of Tom's thigh, put it on the table and picked up a gun, making Liz's heart race even faster. "What I have planned will mean many casualties. So now, you have a choice – stop me now and save many lives. Or save only one." In a flash, he had grabbed the knife and ploughed it into Tom's stomach. Liz screamed, instinctively rushing from the chair and to Tom's side. "What will you choose?" He taunted as he walked away.

Not even noticing the immaculate table set that was laid out, Liz grabbed a thick cloth napkin and pressed it firmly under the knife. Remembering from a first-aid class she took, she tried not to touch the knife, knowing that it was actually stopping further bleeding. "Keep your eyes open, baby! Keep them open!" She begged, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialling 911.

!"!

The next few hours were a blur for Liz. The police and an ambulance arrived only minutes later, bursting through the front door. The paramedics rushed to Tom, carefully removing him from the chair and strapping him into a stretcher. The police stayed with Liz as they searched the rest of the house and tried to get some answers from her. They sat her down and asked her what had happened, being patient with her when she couldn't answer coherently and cried. Liz was shocked further when Ressler arrived at the house as the police were taking a statement. He took a look around the scene, heard Liz mumble 'Zamani' and then immediately got on his phone and started making calls. Forensics teams came and started photographing everything. All the while Liz sat on an armchair and cried silently. When she regained some thought, she stood up and moved silently over to Ressler.

"Take me to him."

"Your boyfriend? He's still in surgery."

"Reddington."

Ressler looked her over and then nodded. "Do you want to change?" Liz was already on her way over to the door and pulling her boots on, uncaring that her jeans, t-shirt and hands were still stained with Tom's blood.

The ride over to the hotel was silent and tense. Liz stared out of the window, not making a sound. She could feel Ressler occasionally look at her, but he didn't say anything. When they pulled up at the hotel, Liz climbed out before he had the chance to put the handbrake on and switch the engine off. When people in the hotel saw her, they dodged out of the way, but she didn't care. Reddington had known about Beth, about Zamani, about the Chemist…Had he known that this would happen? Or had he even organised it himself? She caught the elevator, not holding the doors to Ressler who was running after her. The elevator arrived at the right floor and Liz stormed down the corridor, unblinking as she burst through the doors to the suite. That had been too easy. Ressler must have told the guards to let her through. The living room was empty. She made her way into the dining room and found Reddington there doing a crossword puzzle.

"Did you do this?"

He looked up and appeared alarmed by her appearance. "What happened, Lizzie?"

"Zamani was in my house! My boyfriend is on a ventilator!"

He pointed the paper at her and spoke slowly but firmly. "Calm down and tell me what happened."

"Don't play stupid, you're the only thing connecting us! He told me that you're obsessed with me."

Reddington did pause for a second but continued. "Did he mention the girl or the bomb?"

"We're not a team!"

"Zamani-"

"I'm not your partner!"

"What did he say, Lizzie?"

She threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know! Something about…Something about the Chemist and casualties…He talked about you. He actually thanked me for getting rid of the Chemist."

"So the bomb's still in play."

Liz threw the nearest thing, a lamp, on to the floor. "Why the hell was he in my house?! Tell me! Why is my boyfriend dying in a hospital bed?!"

"The truth is, Lizzie, that despite your feelings, your boyfriend," He spat the word distastefully, "Doesn't matter."

Liz snapped. Now behind him, she grabbed the pen he had been writing with and thrust it into the side of his neck. Credit to him, he didn't even cry out. He put his hand over hers to stop her hand moving, but otherwise didn't react. She leant in next to his ear. "Okay, so I just punched a hole in your carotid artery, you've probably got one minute before you pass out. So listen to me carefully. You're going to tell me how to stop Zamani and save Beth, or I let you die. Do you understand?"

Reddington actually seemed amused. "Yeah. But if I die…You'll never know the truth about Tom."

Too angry to care about Reddington anymore, she hissed, "You know nothing about Tom." She straightened up and pulled the pen from his neck, throwing it onto the table and storming out just as quickly as she'd came in.

!"!

Ressler drove her home again. This time he tried to get her to talk to him. What had she said to Reddington? Why was there fresh blood on her hand? Reddington had been taken to hospital with a wound to his neck, did she have anything to do with it, because Reddington said he had 'slipped'. He told her that Tom had come out of surgery and it had gone well, but the doctors had induced a medical coma to give his body time to heal. All three of his knife wounds had been repaired, his organs were alright and he should recover in a few weeks.

When they arrived back at the house, the Forensics teams were just about finishing up. She watched them for nearly an hour before they packed up and left. Ressler told her that there would a security team outside the house all night, 'so don't worry about Zamani coming back'. She may not have been FBI but even she knew that Zamani wouldn't come back so soon. She thanked him and closed the door after him. Twelve hours. Just twelve hours ago she had overslept. Twelve hours and her life had been so simple. She had been a good student in a nice house with a loving boyfriend. And now…Now what did she have?

She went into the laundry room to let Hudson out from when she had shut him in so the Forensics team could work without being interrupted. The little puppy bounded around her feet for a second, ran into the dining room and then back to Liz and whined in fright. Even the puppy seemed to have known what had happened to Tom. Standing in the doorway to the living room, Liz stared at the blood stains all over the floor. Had they been there when she had gotten home? If so, how had she not seen them when she walked through to Tom? Because she was too busy being excited over Tom's 'proposal'. How selfish she must be…Her boyfriend was beaten and bleeding in a chair as she danced around and didn't notice. Fuelled by more anger, she went into the kitchen, got out a cleaning tub and filled it with hot water, collecting a box of soda powder and set to work.

Hudson curled up underneath an armchair with a chew toy as he watched Liz scrub furiously at the carpet for hours, all to no effect. After she had used the whole box of soda and the blood stains didn't seem even slightly lighter, Liz screamed in frustration and pain, throwing the scrubbing brush against a wall and sprawled across the floor, tears flowing from her eyes. Hudson licked her cheek and curled up next to her as they both fell asleep, not waking until the sun shone through a window and onto Liz's face, waking her. She roused slowly, let Hudson into the back garden and went upstairs for a shower. With a grimace she peeled off her blood stained jeans and top, throwing them onto the floor as she stepped under the nearly scalding hot spray, scrubbing her body and hair. She was dressed and with Tom at the hospital within the hour. He had been washed of blood, but his face and body were covered in dark and angry bruises. His hand was in a cast, his forearm was bandaged and he was hooked up to a ventilator. She sat with him for a while before kissing his forehead and asking the FBI agents who were accompanying her to take her to see Reddington. They both exchanged a glance at each other, obviously having heard what she did the night before, but they nodded and drove her over.

She climbed out of the car when it pulled up by the kerb and rushed into the hospital. The receptionist told her what floor and room when she told them who she was. When she got there, Ressler was standing guard outside as a male nurse was coming out. Ressler spotted her and glared at her, his hands on his hips and a serious look on his face. She looked apologetic, genuinely feeling upset over what she did to Red.

"Scott, you can't be here."

She pleaded, "Just let me talk to him."

"Like you did last night?"

"Not quite…"

"You stabbed him in the neck!"

"I thought he slipped." She pouted. Ressler just kept glaring. "Look, I'm sorry for what I did – I really am! – but Reddington knows Zamani. Two minutes?" She gave him her best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed and caved. "Two minutes."

"Thank you." She hurried into the room, over to where the curtains around the bed were drawn. "Red, it's Liz. I'm sorry about-" She pulled back the curtain and paused in disbelief. The covers were thrown back, the window was open and there was rope hanging out of it. Looking out the window she saw a man in a fedora – Reddington's trade mark – walking through the car park. "Shit…" She ran back out the room. "He's gone!" She shouted at Ressler as she ran down the corridor back to the elevator. The doors were open and she saw the male nurse, who smirked and winked at her. "Wait!" The doors closed before she could get there. Ressler shouted to her from down the corridor. She hurried over. "What do we do now?"

"Don't worry, we've got a tracking chip in his arm." He pulled out his walkie-talkie and started issuing commands, telling 'units to be ready to move' and for someone to 'pull up Reddington's chip'. They only had to wait a minute before a voice came through the radio and told them Reddington's location. "Okay, we're going to head over there right now!" He took hold of her elbow and started running with her. Another elevator had come and they climbed into the car, heading down to the ground floor and rushing to the nearest cars. "Scott, you get in this one with these guys. I'll get in the other one. Here, take these," He handed her a spare walkie-talkie and a temporary FBI ID pass, "In case you need them." She nodded and climbed in the back of the first SUV and the driver took off at alarming speeds. Liz looked back and saw the second SUV pull off and follow them, keeping up.

Liz spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Ressler? Where are we heading? Over."

Static crackled before Ressler's voice came through. _"Scott, no-one uses 'over' anymore. Reddington's chip signal is coming from the Lincoln memorial, ETA five minutes."_

"What do we do when we get there?"

"_We'll think of that when we get there!"_ Liz rolled her eyes and sat back for the rest of the ride. They stopped when Ressler's voice came through on the radio. _"Okay, he's somewhere here, guys! Proceed on foot!" _The two guards got out of the car, leaving Liz in the back. She waited for a minute before her phone rang.

She answered it. "Hello?"

Reddington's voice came through. _"There's a snag; Zamani's after children, not just the girl."_

"Red? Where are you?"

"_I need you to tell me what Zamani said last night. In your house; what did Zamani say, Lizzie?"_

She was surprised that he would still use her nickname even after she stabbed him. She didn't hear his question through her surprise. "I'm sorry I stabbed you-!" She spluttered hysterically.

"_Lizzie, focus! What did Zamani say? What did you see?"_

"Um…He talked about the Chemist-"

"_No. What did you see?"_

Liz's mind flashed with images of Tom's face, blood, knives and screams. "Blood, there was blood everywhere-"

"_Take a breath, Lizzie."_

She did so, clearing her mind of those images. A fresh one cropped up; Zamani beckoning her to look at him with his hand. The mark. "A tattoo."

"_No, he's Serbian Orthodox; he wouldn't have a tattoo."_

"That mark, I've seen it before somewhere. Where have I seen it?" She whispered to herself, closing her eyes again. The mark…Tom's face yesterday morning. Two pamphlets. The Space museum. And…Her eyes shot open. "It was a stamp, not a tattoo. The target's the DC zoo."

"_Go there now."_

"But-"

"_Are you in a car?"_

"Yes."

"_Anyone else there?"_

"No."

"_Can you drive?"_

"Yes."

"_Then drive."_ He ordered, hanging up the phone.

Liz looked at her handset in disbelief. He hung up on her! She climbed out of the car and got in the driver's seat, pulling off and heading towards the zoo. Oh Ressler would be so angry with her for stealing the car. Thankfully the car's flashing lights were still on and people moved out of her way. She put her foot down as much as she dared, arriving at the zoo in only a few minutes. She pulled up outside of it, taking the walkie-talkie and badge with her, running through the crowds. She held up the badge at the entrance and she was let through. She scanned the crowds, desperately searching for Beth. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, there were children everywhere! Should she look for her bright pink coat? Or could they have redressed her? Her head flicked from side to side and then stopped. A lone little girl sat on a bench at the top of a hill. She wore a pink coat. Liz jogged closer, glad to see that it was Beth and she didn't look hurt.

"Beth, honey?" Beth looked up and looked relieved to see Liz. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Are you alone? Is there anyone with you?"

"They said I had to wait for my daddy. They put this on me." She unzipped her coat a few inches, revealing dozens of wires around her chest. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Liz peered over Beth's shoulders and examined her bag. Through the material she could see a digital timer counting down. 02:39.

!"!

She sat down on the bench next to Beth, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as her phone rang. She answered it without checking the ID. "Yeah?"

"_Whatever you do, don't touch it."_

"Two and a half minutes, we've got to evacuate!"

"_No, that'll take too long. Stay where you are, my friend's on his way."_

"Friend? What friend?" He hung up again. She hoped that wouldn't become a usual occurrence. Liz crouched down in front of Beth and held her hands. What do you say to a six year old when she's got a bomb strapped to her back? By some luck, Beth spoke first.

"Did you keep Pokey safe?"

Liz could have cried for this girl. "Yes, I did. See, here he is." She took the plastic bracelet off and put it back on Beth's tiny wrist. She and Beth fiddled with the animal charms on it. "So do any of these other guys have names?" Beth talked for a little while, until a man suddenly put a bag down on the bench next to her and started pulling out tools, speaking quickly in an Eastern European language. "Did Reddington said you?" He nodded as he talked, obviously recognising the name. "Look, I can't understand you." He ignored her, still speaking. "Can you stop the bomb?" She demanded, pointing to Beth's backpack. He just spoke slowly and made a calming gesture with his hands. She took that to mean 'be quiet'.

"Are we going to be okay?" Beth asked in a quiet voice.

Liz crouched down in front of her again. "Yeah, baby, we're going to be fine, don't worry." Beth didn't seem to believe her. Time to draw out the big guns…"You know how I gave you the pin, to make you brave?" Beth nodded, sniffling. "You wanna see what my daddy gave me? To make me brave?" Beth nodded again. "It's really special, you see, I've never shown anyone before." Liz tugged her sleeve down and showed Beth her scar.

The girl looked at it curiously. "What does it do?"

"Well whenever I'm feeling scared, I just touch it," She stroked her finger over it, "And it makes me brave. It's like magic! Do you think it could make you brave too?" Beth nodded, stroking the scar gently with her finger. "Do you feel it, the magic? It's making you brave, Beth!"

"It is?"

"Yeah!" The beeping from Beth's backpack suddenly quickened and the man seemed to curse under his breath and started working faster. This was it…This was it…"You're a brave girl, Beth. You're such a brave girl." Liz tried to console the child, while tears filled her own eyes. 'Not yet', she thought, 'not yet. I'm not ready'. And then the beeping stopped and the man grinned at her, removing the device from Beth's bag. "Have you done it?" She asked as he kissed the top of her and Beth's heads and then running off. Beth jumped into her arms, Liz instinctively wrapping her arms tight around her, standing up and looking after the man. "Wait!"

"Consider the device payment for his services." Liz turned around and saw Reddington walk up the hill towards them, calling out something in the fleeing man's language.

"You just gave him a chemical weapon!" She protested as she kept Beth in her arms.

"Yes, he's fascinated by them. It'll be more use to him than us anyway." He grinned at her and patted Beth's back. "How did everything go here?"

Liz scoffed in annoyance, letting Beth down when she called out for her dad, who was running towards them with dozens of armed FBI agents. The General scooped Beth up into his arms as the FBI continued moving forward. "A man, red vest, grey sweatshirt – he's got the bomb." She told them when they got closer. The leader nodded and ordered his squad to keep going. Ressler immediately went straight to Reddington, who had already put his hands on his head, and handcuffed him. Liz flopped onto the bench. "So is that it? It's done?"

He smiled at her. "We're going to make a great team, Lizzie."

!"!

Lizzie was driven home. When she closed the door behind her, she slumped against it. It was done, it was over. Opening her eyes and seeing the blood stains still on the carpet in the living room, she shuddered. Well not completely over. She knew she wasn't going to get the blood out of the cream fabric. Only one thing she could do. She headed into the kitchen, remembering to let Hudson out into the back garden, picked up a large serrated knife and headed back into the lounge. Picking up spot of carpet – as it was simply lain down and not secured under the skirting boards – she started to cut and rip the fabric, roughly pulling and cutting and tearing, desperate to get the offending thing out of her house as soon as possible. After an hour, she had most of it up and in pieces. As she pulled back a particular piece, she noticed odd lines in the wood work underneath. A perfect rectangle, and the boards had some give. Using the knife as an impromptu crowbar, she got the lid off the hole. Inside it was a chest. How long had it been there? Who put it there? The previous owners? She lifted it out of the hole, feeling that it was quite heavy, opened the lid and froze. Money. Hundreds of thousands of US dollars. Passports, more than a dozen. She opened one and nearly burst into tears. Tom's picture on a German passport? She picked up another one. A French one, with Tom's picture. British, Swedish, Canadian, Australian…All with Tom's picture in them. And underneath all the money and passports…Was a gun.

What was happening?!

!"!

She called Ressler on her phone, using the number he had used to text her the night before, asking to speak to Reddington again. Ressler seemed surprised, seeing as the Zamani case was over and finished with, but after asking Assistant Director Cooper, he told her a car would be at her house shortly. She was picked up and taken to the Post Office. Ressler led her down corridors she hadn't seen before, deep underground, and stopped outside a cell. The guard at the door opened the cell, letting light pour into it. Were the prisoners kept in darkness? Liz didn't ponder that too long, stepping in the doorway and seeing Reddington inside.

He opened his eyes and looked at her knowingly. "You've discovered something curious about your boyfriend, haven't you, Lizzie?"


	2. The Freelancer

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN BLACKLIST!**

**Why Am I Special?**

**Case 2: The Freelancer**

Liz's life went on as normal for more than a week. Wake up, go to class, visit Tom in the hospital, go home, go to bed, repeat. The doctors at the hospital told her that Tom was doing much better. A small infection had cropped up in his leg from the wound to his thigh, but the doctors had quickly squashed it through antibiotics. They had stopped the drugs which were keeping him in the coma, but it may take a few days for them to completely clear his system. It wouldn't be too long before he would wake up.

Liz knew that that should make her happy, but all she could think about was the box she had found in the floor. The box that held hundreds of thousands of dollars. The box with dozens of passports with Tom's picture in. The box with the gun. That box and its contents plagued her mind all day. She couldn't concentrate in her classes. She couldn't watch TV or listen to music or read her books. She could barely sleep. Questions spun through her head. How long had that box been there? Who had put it there? Why? Where had the money come from? Were the passports legal or forged? Why was there a gun in the box? If it was Tom's gun, why was it hidden away? Had it been used in a crime? If it had, why would he keep it? Why wouldn't he get rid of it?

Over a week went by. Liz arrived home after visiting Tom, reading to him for a while before calling it a night when the nurses came in to bathe him. Before she had headed back home in Tom's car, she had seen the hospital administrator to talk about paying for Tom's care. Instead the administrator had looked at her in confusion and told her that Tom's medical costs were already being paid for. She had asked who by. He said he couldn't say. She had left the hospital in a quandary, more questions filling her head. As she closed the house's front door behind her, her phone rang from her pocket. She answered it, walking to the laundry room to let Hudson out. The puppy ran around her ankles a few times before running around the downstairs rooms, eventually coming obediently to the back door to be let out.

"Hello?"

"_Miss Scott, it's Assistant Director Cooper of the FBI."_

She couldn't hide her surprise. "Oh, um, hi. What can I do for you?"

"_It's about Raymond Reddington."_

"Another Serbian terrorist at large?" She joked nervously. He didn't seem amused. "Sorry."

"_My superiors would like you to come in to the Post Office for a polygraph exam."_

"A polygraph, what's that?"

"_It's nicknamed a lie detector test."_

"Why do they want me to have a lie detector test?"

"_To be honest, they're nervous about the possible connection between you and_ _Reddington."_

She protested as she gave Hudson a treat for doing his business in the garden. "But I don't _have_ a connection to Reddington."

"_Well then you've got nothing to worry about."_

"Oh, touché, Mr Cooper." She bit back sarcastically. "When would they like this test to take place?"

"_Tomorrow morning, 11am."_

"But I have class at eleven tomorrow!" Cooper didn't respond. "Something tells me that your superiors don't care about that." She mused.

"_We'll send a car for you at ten. The test will take an hour or so and then we may_ _want to talk to you afterwards."_

"I'll clear my schedule." She sulked, hanging up. She sighed and looked down at Hudson sitting at her feet with his tail wagging behind him. "The feds, huh?"

!"!

The car was outside her house at exactly ten o'clock. She looked out the window and groaned. Something told her that it was going to be a long day. She shut Hudson away with his toys, water and food, secured the house and then left. Ressler was in the passenger seat, a driver in front.

"Nice to see you again, Scott." He said in almost a teasing fashion.

"Likewise, buddy, likewise." She teased back.

They drove to the Post Office at normal speeds and in total silence. She guessed the radio wasn't allowed on, and neither man made any attempt at a conversation. When they arrived at the Post Office, she was politely escorted through the corridors, this time into an interrogation room. She hadn't seen anyone on the way in, but something told her that there were people behind the mirror. A boorish man in his sixties was already in the room, finishing setting up the equipment for the polygraph.

"Good morning." She spoke first. He droned the greeting back to her. "Shall I sit down yet?" He asked her to wait. She took off her bag and put it in the corner of the room, taking her coat off and placing it on top of the bag. She waited patiently for the man to address her.

He asked her to sit down and then immediately started passing cables and tubes over her. She sat back calmly and let him do whatever he needed to do. When he seemed satisfied, he turned on a video camera which was set up in front of her.

"There is normally a pre-test interview which would determine the questions of the actual test, but that won't be necessary here. To begin, I shall ask you some basic questions about yourself that we already know the answer to. This will gage your responses to later questions. The tubes around your chest monitor your respiration, the clip on your finger is for your pulse, the band around your arm is for blood pressure and the plate under your hand measures perspiration. Do you understand?" She said yes. "All the questions will be simple 'yes' or 'no'. Please don't answer any other way, and please answer to the best of your knowledge. I will ask you the questions in a random order and possibly multiple times. The results to the questions will not be revealed to you during the test. Do you understand?" She said yes again. "Then we'll begin. Monday, 11:07am, Examiner Hatch. Subject Elizabeth Scott. Questions begin. Is your name Elizabeth Scott?"

"Yes."

"Are you nineteen years old?"

"Yes."

"Are you a natural brunette?"

She laughed. "Yes."

"Have you ever been convicted of a crime?"

"No."

"Before Monday of last week, have you ever had personal contact with Raymond Reddington?"

"No."

"Did Raymond Reddington notify you before he surrendered himself to the FBI?"

"No."

"Is your boyfriend Thomas Keen?"

"Yes."

"Does Raymond Reddington know, or has he ever known, your boyfriend?"

"No."

"Do you live at 8462 Townsend Lane?"

"Yes."

"Do you live with Thomas Keen?"

"Yes."

"Does your father have a criminal record?"

Liz visibly tensed up, running her tongue angrily over her teeth. She bit out, uncaring that her annoyance was clear. "Yes."

"Does Raymond Reddington know, or has he ever known, your father?"

"No."

The questions were fired at her endlessly for over an hour, some questions being repeated from before. Then the examiner asked her a question that made her think for a long time.

"Are you afraid of Raymond Reddington?"

Liz paused, unsure why they were asking her that. Was it because she had seemed quite at ease with him those times she had been in the Box with him? She made him laugh with her humour, he had made her smile with his. Was it because she had stabbed him with the pen? Did they see that as defensive behaviour? Because it hadn't been.

"Are you afraid of Raymond Reddington?" The examiner repeated.

Was she afraid of him? She knew in her head that she should be – he was on the Most Wanted list for a reason. Probably many reasons. Their encounters had been controlled, with the first two times in the Box. But there was something about him. Something that actually made her feel safe.

"Miss Scott, are you afraid of Raymond Reddington?" The examiner demanded loudly.

Feeling confident of her answer, she looked down the lens of the camera pointed at her and answered clearly, "No."

!"!

When the test was over and she was free of tubes and wires, she was allowed a bathroom visit and a cup of coffee. A nameless agent led her back into the Briefing Room where she and Reddington had sussed out Zamani's plan over a week ago. Cooper and Ressler were already there.

"Morning, guys. Or is it afternoon by now?" She teased quietly, taking a drink from the paper cup.

"You won't have seen this." Ressler nodded up at one of the huge screens which was showing a news channel.

"Jesus…" She groaned as she watched the footage of a derailed train. Sixty people were dead, with more people still being pulled out of the wreckage. "When was this?"

"11:20 this morning. Just over an hour ago."

"Okay…" She glanced between the two men. She noted that both men were about a foot taller than her. Sometimes she hated being a meagre 5'3". "So why am I still here?"

"Reddington warned us of the incident early this morning." Cooper answered. "We sent teams to the park to investigate, but found nothing. And then the train derailed."

"Okay…" She repeated.

"We tried to ask him what he knew-"

She groaned as she realised. "But he said he'd only talk to me?"

"Exactly."

She groaned again. "Is he in the Box?" She asked in a resigned tone of voice.

Ressler nodded. She was about to walk through when Cooper stopped her. "You should probably know that he offered to help us catch many more criminals like Zamani, in exchange for an immunity deal which would guarantee that he can't be prosecuted for any crimes he's already committed, as well as any he commits while helping us catch the names on his 'Blacklist'."

"A clean slate." She mused. "And that's not going to happen?" She guessed. "Is this deal a deal breaker for him?"

"It probably will be." Ressler scoffed.

"Then give it to him. If it means more dangerous criminals off the streets, give him whatever he wants." She shrugged, heading through to the Box room. She had to wait for an unimpressed Cooper to open the Box before she headed through into the room, her coffee still in hand with her bag crossed over her body. Reddington watched her approach with a smile. "You know, Red…" She started with a light tone, secretly excited by what this case might involve. She knew it probably wasn't healthy, but she had loved catching Zamani, barring her boyfriend almost dying. The thrill of the chase, the terror of the bomb threat, the joy of success…She didn't like to admit it, but she wanted that again. If Reddington wanted her involved again, he wouldn't even need to ask. But she didn't have to be easy about it. "As unlikely as it may sound, I _do_ have other things to do beside come running to you." She teased, stopping a few feet away from him.

His smile was contagious, making her smile. "If you had any idea of how far I've travelled to see that smile again, Lizzie…"

"My name's not Lizzie." She whispered playfully behind the rim of the paper cup. Reddington smiled again. "Cooper's told me your demand for an immunity deal. You know it probably won't happen?" She said as she entered the Box and sat down on the metal bench, putting her bag on the floor. Reddington turned his head to watch her as she settled down. She fluffed up her curled hair with one hand and watched him in silence for a minute. "So have you had your polygraph test yet?"

"They made you take a poly?" He asked, but without surprise.

"Grilled me for over an hour. Some of the questions were weird. But I think I surprised them with one of my answers." She felt it was important that she tell him. It might level the playing field a bit. "Are you afraid of Raymond Reddington?" She watched for his reaction. Damn his poker face. "What do you think I said?"

"I'm going to take an educated guess at 'no'." A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement.

"That's right." She nodded and then leaned forward on the bench, whispering. "I am not afraid of you, Raymond Reddington."

He smiled and whispered back. "Good."

"Good." She nodded. "Now tell me about the train wreck."

"What would you like to know?"

"Everything."

He smiled again. He had a nice smile. "The accident was no accident, you know that. What you don't know is the man behind it is quite prolific, having arranged a myriad of similar events. Shall I go on?" He gestured to his restraints.

Liz stood up and leaned half-way out of the box. "Can we get Reddington released please?" She called out to no-one in particular, knowing that people were undoubtedly watching in the observation room. She turned back to him.

"How's Tom?"

She nodded bravely. "He's getting better. They've withdrawn the drugs keeping him in the coma, so he should wake up soon." The loud alarm sounded and the walls of the Box began to move back. The observation room door opened and a few guards entered. Liz stepped away so they could release Reddington. As he stood up and adjusted his waistcoat, he politely gestured for her to walk in front.

They entered the Briefing Room and found a whole team of people there, obviously waiting to move on whatever Reddington told them. He looked around the room and said, "I'll need a computer for a few minutes." As someone stood guard over what he was doing, Reddington prepared a Briefing on their next target. Liz put her bag on the table and got her phone out, calling the hospital for an update on Tom. He'd had a good night and morning, but he still wasn't awake. Apparently that was normal after a trauma such as his, so she shouldn't worry. But that didn't stop her. Reddington called to her after a minute, teasing that they were ready when she was. Reddington had put newspaper articles up on the screens, all focusing on accidents that had happened over the past few years. "A building collapses. A ferry capsizes. Events that we've come to expect on the evening news. But in truth, there's always more to the story. Behind the facts and figures, the casualties and victims, there's always a murder. There's a man who hides his killings in the headlines."

"What proof do you have?" Ressler barked.

Reddington looked annoyed at the interruption. "His work is hard to detect, but the victims are there – a judge here, a politician there…If you look closer, there is a pattern underneath it all. Over the past seven years, more than three-thousand innocent civilians have been killed as collateral damage in this man's methods."

"And does this man have a name?" Cooper asked.

"They call him the Freelancer. In the twenty years on my side of the tracks, I have never encountered a single person who has killed so many innocent civilians through their work. He's rivalled only by governments and terrorist organisations. And you've never even heard of him." He looked pointedly at Cooper. "I have solid information that his next target will be in New York. This is not an opportunity to ponder or deliberate, because once he's finished, he'll be gone."

"So how can we find him?" Ressler asked in a calmer voice.

"You don't find him, I do." He smiled cheekily at the agent.

"What, by secret emails and codes?"

"Agent Ressler, I don't have email, or a phone number, or an address. I prefer to do business face-to-face."

"You've met him?" Liz pitched in.

"Once. Normally he works through an intermediary. He might be for sale. Perhaps I should arrange a meeting…" He let that thought dangle in front of them like a carrot in front of a hungry mule as he smirked at Lizzie.

She looked to Cooper for the yes or no. He nodded reluctantly. She smiled at Reddington. "Perhaps you should."

"You should come, Lizzie." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Just us two, no wires, no clumsy agents hiding in the bushes…" He aimed the last part at Ressler. "If you want me to make an introduction, you need to trust my source and I." Cooper looked at Liz in a 'do you really want to go with Reddington?' way. She shrugged back 'yeah, why not?'. Cooper grimaced but nodded at Reddington. "Wonderful! You'll need a dress, dear." He touched Liz's elbow.

"So where is this meeting?" She asked curiously.

"Montreal."

!"!

Reddington escorted Liz out as she announced that she'd need to head home if they were going to be travelling. Before she could even pick up her bag after the briefing had finished, Cooper had called her into his office and handed her a large folder.

"A copy of FBI field regulations and protocols. My superiors insist you learn up on these if you're going to be working with Reddington."

"But I'm not part of the FBI." She tried to protest as she tested the weight of the folder in her arms. This was more than a week's worth of reading.

"Reddington is working with the FBI, and you're working with Reddington, so…You're also going to need to start exercising and training more, in case you ever need to do field work. When you've progressed enough, we'll discuss firearm training." He sat down at his desk and starting writing, obviously ending the conversation.

She left his office, folder in arms, and collected her coat and bag. Reddington had had his coat and hat handed to him as she put hers on. They walked together with a guard following them a few feet behind. Liz wasn't sure if that was because they were protecting her from Reddington or to make sure he didn't try and run.

"What do you know about the passports?" She whispered.

"What passports?"

"You know what I mean! A part of me thinks you could have put them there."

"Put what, Lizzie?"

"The box with the money, the gun and the passports." She hissed.

"Who else have you told?"

"Huh? I haven't told anyone-"

"And I wouldn't. If you go to the police, they'll file charges. And if the gun isn't registered, that's a felony. Fake passports are twenty-five years each. If you confront Tom, what good will that do? He'll deny everything and you'll continue to doubt him. And if you do nothing…Either way, it's an impossible situation." He smiled sadly at her, nudging her forward by her elbow when she stopped walking. "I'll pick you up in two hours, Lizzie."

"And how do you know where I live?" She asked under her breath as he walked off.

!"!

Liz and Reddington flew up to Montreal a few hours later after the FBI had commandeered a small private plane just for them. Liz, having never flown before, was both terrified and excited to be flying to somewhere new. She spent most of the flight looking out of the window at the ground below them. Every so often she heard Reddington laugh quietly from the other side of the cabin.

"You've not flown many times, have you?"

"Never." She answered, still looking out of the window.

"How do you like it so far?"

"It's okay." She half-turned in her chair to look at Reddington. "Have you been to Montreal before?"

"I've been nearly everywhere before, Lizzie."

Liz spent the rest of the flight asking Reddington questions. Have you been to France? Have you been to China? Have you been to South America? Do you prefer hot countries or cold? Beaches or mountains? How many languages do you speak? She thought she would be annoying him after a short while, but when he had swapped seats to sit opposite her and kept talking about some of the place he had visited, she knew that he was enjoying their conversation just as much.

"What about you, Lizzie? Where have you been?"

"Nowhere really, my dad doesn't like to travel. He took me camping and fishing and hiking in the woods, but it was always in Nebraska, and that stuff wasn't really my scene."

Reddington tapped his bottom lip and took a drink of his scotch, crossing his legs. They sat in silence for a few minutes before he asked, "Why did you move to Washington?"

"College. Though I suppose I won't be in college much from now on." She gave him a playful glare. "Dad was crushed when I told him I was moving to the other side of the country. I guess he wanted me to stay there with him."

"Would you have liked to?"

"If I'm honest, not really. I mean I love my dad more than anything, but I couldn't stay in Nebraska forever. Dad eventually realised that too."

Reddington took a drink of his scotch that the stewardess had given to him. "What are you studying?"

"History and English."

"Where do you want to go with that?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I only really applied to go to college because that's what I thought people did, you know? Go to high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids…Other options never occurred to me."

Reddington looked at her in thought and was about to ask a question when the stewardess told them that they were landing. They fastened their seatbelts and came down quickly and smoothly, Liz making a surprised squeak when the wheels hit the runway. Reddington chuckled and patted her hand soothingly. They headed to their expensive hotel – only the best for Reddington – and got ready for their meeting. Reddington looked sophisticated in a more expensive suit, a three piece as always, and approved Liz's classic little black dress with elbow-length sleeves and a thin red belt for contrast, black heels to go with it.

"Very nice, Lizzie. Are you ready to go?"

He escorted her out the hotel and into a cab, speaking in fluent French to the driver. It seemed strange to Lizzie that the main spoken language in a Canadian state was French, but she didn't let it bother her. She didn't speak much French herself, having gotten a C- in it at high school, but she liked Reddington's accent when he spoke it. The cab drive was ridden in silence, until they pulled up outside a high-end looking restaurant. Reddington paid the driver and was about to climb out the car when Liz stopped him.

"Okay, as excited as I am to be somewhere new, we need to be clear on something – this isn't a social call. We're here to speak to your contact and get the name of the next victim, so when we've done that, we're going straight back to DC. Okay?"

"I agree completely." Well that was easy… "But it is a restaurant. And it is dinner time." He grinned at her. "I'll open your door." He climbed out as she sighed. Nothing was ever simple.

Reddington opened her door for her, offering a hand so she could climb out delicately. She straightened her dress as he closed the cab door. "So what does this contact look like?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear." He put his hand on the small of her back and led her into the building, holding the door open for her. He handed his hat and her coat to the coat-check and spoke to the maître d' who saw them to a table. "If anyone asks, you're my girlfriend."

She sniggered. "No way." He held her chair out for her as she sat down, pushing it in gently. She liked his manners. Not even Tom had ever pushed her chair in or opened a car door for her.

"Well then you can be my daughter." Reddington settled himself opposite her and spoke to the waitress who came over. "What would you like to drink?"

"Can I drink here, I'm only nineteen."

"Yes you can." He smiled.

"Well, should I drink? We're here on business-"

"Lizzie." He scolded gently, clearly asking for her order.

She blushed. "Chardonnay, please."

He turned back to the waitress and spoke quick French. When she left, he asked, "Would you like something to eat?"

"Your contact-"

"We'll make time." He helped her read the French menu and then prepared to order for them when the waitress came back with their drinks.

As the waitress placed a cocktail glass filled with dark blue liquid in front of her, she frowned. "Red, this isn't what I ordered." He ignored her as he placed their food orders, picking up his glass of scotch and clinking it with hers in a toast. She eyed her drink with uncertainty. "Well here goes…" She took a sip of the cocktail, held it in her mouth for a second and then swallowed with a smile.

"An Aviation Cocktail, from the 1920's."

"That's amazing." She gushed, taking another sip.

"Tell me about high school." He sat back in chair and crossed his legs.

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Your friends, your teachers, which clique you belonged to…You said on the plane that you don't know why you even bothered applying for college."

"And I still don't."

"Why? Boyfriend troubles? Trying to fit in? Dare I ask, drugs?" He frowned at the last part.

"No! Me and Tom are in a good place; I've already got loads of friends, and I'll admit to the drugs but that's not the issue. It's just-"

"Which drugs?" Reddington interrupted, looking displeased.

She looked down in shame, biting her lip. "Everything, really. In high school, I was…Troubled. I went clubbing a lot and if someone gave me something, I'd take it."

"Why?"

She gave an ashamed shrug. "Why not? For fun, for a distraction, for a few hours of freedom…I was surprised that I even got in to college! So was my dad, although he'd never say that."

Reddington took a drink of his scotch. "But you're not like that now."

"No, no. Honestly, it was Tom that straightened me out. In high school I had a bit of a reputation. One that I was on my way to starting again when I got here for college – I went to parties and got drunk and stoned most nights; I'd turn up to lectures still high. But when I started dating Tom about this time last year, he straightened me out. Moderate drinking, no drugs…I'm better with him than I am without." She nodded firmly. "Plans after college, though…I don't know what I want to do. I like learning about history but I have no idea what to do with a History degree. I don't want to work in a museum, I don't want to be a historian and I don't want to teach History. I only picked History because it was my best subject. I had a knack for it in high school, all those names and dates."

Reddington nodded. "Tell me more."

Liz rolled her eyes again as she swallowed some of her cocktail. "I hated high school, like I imagine everybody did. There were people who liked me, people who hated me, teachers I liked, teachers I hated, clubs I went to, clubs I didn't…"

"Which clubs did you go to?"

"Art and figure skating. I went to art club because I like to paint even though I can barely draw stickmen, and I always found figure skating to be so…Beautiful. Painful as hell when you fall but the feeling of the wind rushing past you when you're on the ice…" She shivered. "It's the best feeling in the world. Definitely outweighs the trips and slips."

He smiled at her. Their food arrived, the best food Lizzie had ever eaten. She'd gone for a vegetable pasta, nearly moaning with every mouthful. Reddington was more composed, but seemed to enjoy her enjoyment. The waitress came to clear their plates, offered them dessert, but Liz had shaken her head and Reddington had politely declined.

"Do you have any idea about what you really want to do then? If History doesn't come into it?" Reddington asked, drinking some scotch.

Liz fiddled with a spoon. "Well I wouldn't mind doing skating more, I don't have much time for it now…"

"Any other plans?"

She sighed. "Yes…"

"And?" She mumbled under her breath. "Lizzie, speak clearly please." He scolded.

"I want to be a writer. That's where the minor in English comes into it." Reddington just nodded thoughtfully. "God, I've never told anyone that." She admitted as she took a large drink of her cocktail.

"Your father? Or Tom?"

"No, no-one."

"You're afraid they'll laugh at you."

"No, I'm afraid I'll fail and then they'll laugh at me."

"What kind of books would you like to write?"

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it much. I just know that I want to write. Maybe I'll write a book about a mastermind criminal who catches other criminals."

Reddington laughed. "I'll drink to that." They clinked their glasses together in a toast. Then he hummed thoughtfully. "What about Tom?"

"What _about_ Tom?"

"Does he know you as well as you know him?"

"What are you talking about? I just told you-"

"Does he know about the fire?" He nodded to her scarred palm.

Suddenly uncomfortable, she glanced at her watch. "It's been almost an hour, where's your contact?"

"Well, does he, Lizzie?"

"Why am I so important to you?" She snapped, not wanting to talk about Tom. He ignored her question, summoning a waiter over to the table. He whispered to him, slipping something into his hand. The man quickly left. "Do you always ignore people's questions?"

He smiled back. "What if I told you that everything you believe about yourself is a lie?"

Liz's eyes widened. She was about to ask him what he meant when she saw him glancing around the restaurant with a hard look in his eye. "What is it? Something wrong?"

"Please excuse me a minute." He quickly got up and left, leaving her sitting their bereft.

!"!

Liz waited for a few minutes before the fire alarm suddenly went off. Quickly getting up and passing her bag over her body, she and the rest of the customers left through the front doors just as the FBI swarmed the building. Liz looked at them in disbelief. What were they doing there? It seemed too much of a coincidence that they were at the same restaurant that she and Reddington were at, at the same time. She shook her head in annoyance when she realised that they had followed them and had probably staked out the building. That must have been why Reddington left so suddenly, he must have seen something, probably an undercover agent. She mulled around the car park for a few minutes before someone grabbed her arm roughly.

She spun around and saw Ressler. "Where is he?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Where did Reddington go?"

"I don't know!" She snapped, pulling her arm free. "You set him up, didn't you?"

"He's number four on the Most Wanted list – what did you expect, Scott?"

"Well he's your informant now and _you_ scared him off." She jabbed at his chest in accusation.

"No, he's gone AWOL and it's your fault!"

"My fault? Why the hell is it _my_ fault?" She demanded, marching after him as he stormed over to a van.

"All I'll say is you two were awfully cosy having dinner together…" He snarled as he pulled the back door open and froze.

Reddington sat inside, perfectly comfortable. "Hi guys."

They climbed into the van, Ressler grabbed Reddington and pushed him back against the wall of the van. "You did this, didn't you? You knew your contact wouldn't show!"

Reddington didn't seem bothered by the violence. "Take a breath, Agent Ressler. You think I'm going to come all the way to Montreal for the cheese cart?" He jibed, righting his waistcoat. "My contact was the first person I saw when I walked into the restaurant."

Liz spoke up, "The coat-check!"

Ressler rewound a tape on one of the mini computer screens in the van, letting it play at normal speed when the screen showed Reddington and Liz enter the restaurant. "I left payment in my hat and in exchange he left the name of the Freelancer's next victim." He handed Liz a newspaper cutting.

"Floriana Campo? She's a human rights activist."

"There we are! A solid lead delivered exactly as promised. Not bad for a day's work. Let's celebrate! So Donald, how about the cheese cart?"

!"!

Reddington was put back on a plane to DC within the hour, while Liz and Ressler went to New York to find Floriana Campo. Apparently she was hosting some sort of party in two night's time, so they had to move quickly. Liz had napped on the plane and during the car ride to Floriana's location, being rudely shaken awake by Ressler when they pulled up in a port. Liz shook her head to clear her thoughts and climbed out of the car, following Ressler towards a woman in a red jacket that looked very expensive.

"You do the talking; since she helps young girls escape slavery, she'll be more likely to co-operate with you than with-"

"A pig-headed stiff?"

Ressler glared at her as they got closer to the woman who Liz presumed was their target. "Floriana Campo?" He called out, getting his badge out of his pocket and holding it out for her to see. Floriana Campo was middle aged, some years older than Reddington, with short black hair and a kind face. "Donald Ressler, FBI. And Elizabeth Scott. Can we talk?"

They walked away from Floriana's security team, strolling down the pier. "We think somebody might be planning an assassination attempt on your life." Liz explained, deciding to get straight to the point. "You have to cancel tomorrow night's party."

"No, it can't be cancelled, it's a donor event. And I have my own security." She assured them.

"It's too dangerous, we can't guarantee you'll be safe!" Liz protested.

Floriana laughed. "No-one can, I have many enemies – drug dealers, traffickers, cartels…"

"Look, we know what they did to your husband." Liz urged as she stepped in front of Floriana. "The Ever Hard Cartel. We know what you've gone through. Your work has been…An inspiration to me. I wrote my high school thesis on your time in Kuala Lumpur. I was going through a very bad time, and I think you helped through it."

Floriana smiled at her. "Do you want children someday, Miss Scott?"

"Elizabeth. And yes I do."

"I don't think there's anything more meaningful than being a mother." She smiled sadly. "I never had children of my own, this is my one regret. But these girls, the ones I protect, they are my children. Tomorrow is for them. I won't cancel."

Liz and Ressler looked at each other. "Look, we can't force you to accept FBI protection, but we do need your help. We have to find the man contracted to kill you, and for that we need you to co-operate. Will you help us, Floriana?" Liz looked pleadingly at her.

The Italian woman smiled and nodded. "My assistants will give you whatever you need."

"Thank you, thank you so much!" Liz gushed as Ressler got his phone out of his jacket and started making a call. She let him pull her away with a nudge to her elbow. "That went well, right?"

!"!

They flew back to Washington an hour later, Ressler talking on a satellite phone for the whole journey while Liz prepared notes for an evidence board at the Post Office. When they landed they drove straight to the blacksite and began preparing the briefing on Floriana and her work. Liz printed off dozens of photos, sticking them all over the boards while Ressler spoke to Cooper about the plans they were making for Floriana's party the next evening.

"Miss Scott, are you ready to brief us?" Cooper asked as a small group of FBI agents gathered around.

Too focused on the case to feel the anxiety that she normally felt with public speaking, Liz spoke up clearly. "Floriana Campo is one of the world's most renowned human rights activists. She's been active for nearly thirty years, fifteen years spent with the UN when she was stationed mainly in Eastern Europe with some time in North Africa. She also helped pass the Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000. To date, her charity has raised over $35million on the way to eliminating human and sex trafficking. In 2010 her husband was murdered by the Ever Hard Cartel, _the_ most violent human trafficking cartel in all of Eastern Europe. Survivors of the cartel tell stories of torture, forced addiction, starvation, and the like. The founder of the cartel was killed in a power struggle in 2008, no-one quite knows who runs it today, but they're ruthless – they do whatever they have to do to get rid of the competition or opposition. They killed Floriana's husband, so they've probably hired the Freelancer to kill her too."

"We're doing everything we can to disrupt the Freelancer's plan." Ressler told the group. "We're changing schedules, travel routes, the venue…Reddington said that the Freelancer takes months to plan out his contracts – if he's got anything planned for tomorrow night, he's going to need to get past Campo's and our security."

"What good will all this do if no-one knows what he looks like?" Cooper asked, looking between Liz and Ressler.

Liz could feel that everybody was thinking the same thing she was. Summoning the courage to say out-loud, she pointed out, "Reddington knows."

"Then go ask him." Cooper suggested, walking with her to the Box room and entering the code into the computer in the observation room that opened the Box.

Liz approached the Box, seeing Reddington standing up facing the wall away from her, his hands in his pockets. "Red, we need your help. You said that you've _seen_ the Freelancer? They're pulling up pictures of everybody who's attending Floriana's event tomorrow night-"

"Lizzie…" He began as he turned around to look at her. He didn't look happy. "Please believe when I say that I want nothing more than to help you. It's why I'm here. But I won't say another word until the terms of my deal are met." Liz couldn't, and didn't try to, hide her disappointment in him. "I'm sorry to bother you with such trivial details, Lizzie, but it's a simple 'yes' or 'no'." With that he turned away.

"Red." He didn't react. "Red, we can't do this without you!" Again, nothing. She huffed in anger. "Perfect." She stormed away from the Box and into the observation room, slamming the door behind her.

Cooper had made his way back into the Briefing Room and looked up confused when he saw how angry she was. "What happened? What did Reddington say?"

"Nothing! He won't say another word until he gets his deal!" Liz grabbed the overnight bag she had taken with her to Montreal and began storming out of the room.

"Scott! Where are you going?"

"I'm going home until you've sorted his deal out. And if you don't have it sorted before tomorrow night, I take no responsibility for what'll happen to Floriana!"

!"!

Liz caught a cab back home, unable to stop herself slamming the front door, still angry that Reddington wouldn't help her. She let Hudson out, not surprised to see that he'd had an accident in the laundry room. She cleaned it up and took a shower. When she came downstairs freshly dressed, Hudson curled up in her lap as she ate a chicken salad as they watched TV together, desperately trying to ignore the box that sat on the dining room table. She visited Tom in hospital. Still no change in his condition. Going back home, she started reading the copy of the FBI's field regulations that Cooper had given her before going to bed a few hours later. Inside she was worried that her phone hadn't rung yet – Reddington's deal still hadn't been approved. They had less than twenty-four hours before the party! What were they playing at?!

Liz awoke naturally that day just after ten. She checked her phone straight away. No messages, no missed calls. Going downstairs to feed Hudson, she checked the answering machine. No messages. With a glance at the clock in the kitchen, she almost punched something when she counted less than ten hours until the party. She carried Hudson upstairs with her and showered, letting him sit in the bathroom with her as he munched on a toy bone. She dressed quickly, determined to be ready to go back to the Post Office when – or if – they called her.

An hour later her phone rang. When she saw the screen say 'WITHELD NUMBER', she knew it could only be the FBI. She wondered whether she even wanted to answer it, Hudson seemed to decide for her, nudging the phone into her lap.

With a groan she answered it. "Hello." She sulked into the handset.

Ressler's voice came through. "Get back in here, Reddington's deal's been approved."

"What took-" He hung up. "So long?" She finished as she snapped her phone shut. With Hudson safely in the laundry room again, she wasn't surprised to find an FBI car pull up outside her house. She was back in the Post Office in less than twenty minutes. When she entered the BR, Ressler held an A4 envelope out to her. She took it with a confused frown.

"His deal."

She nodded and headed straight for the Box, not waiting for Ressler to open the Box first. As she got closer to the Box, she saw that Reddington had been fastened into the chair again, probably as some sort of 'punishment' for not co-operating. When she got close enough to the Box, she knocked on the glass when Reddington didn't open his eyes as he normally did when she approached. His eyes opened at her knock and she waved the envelope at him. The alarm sounded and the door to the Box started to open. Liz got out of the way and stood back as Reddington was released from the chair, standing up and stretching his back.

"Your deal, sir." She teased, handing him the envelope.

"It's our turn now!" Ressler shouted from the back of the room as he stalked over to them. "The photos of the attendees for the event."

Reddington didn't acknowledge Ressler at all. Instead, he turned to Liz. "Is that really the right approach?"

"Hey!" Ressler hit Reddington's chest with the file he was holding. Reddington and Liz both glared at him. "I'm right here, talk to me!"

Reddington groaned. "Is this really how the FBI does things? The invite list? The Freelancer didn't RSVP! I've _seen_ him. If we're going to catch him, I need to be in the room."

"You wanna go to the party?" Liz asked sceptically as Ressler got his walkie-talkie off his belt and spoke into it.

"Oh I thought you'd never ask(!)" Reddington smiled widely.

"Hate to break up this happy moment, but your 'security detail' has arrived."

"Wonderful! Well lead on, Donald." Ressler huffed and stormed ahead. "After you, dear." He tilted his head at Liz.

Under the open collar of his shirt, Liz caught sight of the edge of a medical dressing. "What happened to your neck?" She asked as she walked with him.

"Part of my deal, a tracking chip."

"They put another chip in you?"

"No, I wanted this done."

"You _wanted_ a tracking chip put in your neck?"

"Better safe than sorry, Lizzie."

!"!

A few minutes later, Liz, Reddington and Ressler headed out into the Post Office's parking garage. A sleek and expensive black car was parked a few yards in front of them, with an FBI 4x4 off to the side.

"Dembe!" Reddington called out joyfully, spreading his arms out. A man and a woman climbed out of the car. He was African, tall, handsome and strongly built. She was a thin, tall and utterly beautiful Oriental woman in killer heels. Dembe's face and eyes were serious but when he saw his employer, his whole demeanour changed into a warm and caring one. He and Reddington embraced tightly, holding each other for a few seconds before peeling back and kissing each other's cheeks in a display of manly affection. It was quite touching. He said something to Dembe in quick Arabic, making the taller man look at her curiously. She smiled back nervously. What had Reddington said? "Luli, my dear."

"Raymond." Her voice was pure silk. She kissed Reddington passionately with a sexy smirk. Liz and Ressler exchanged a slightly awkward look. That was unexpected…

"Watch yourself with her, Donald – she hates men. Especially cops." Reddington joked as Luli leant on his shoulder, somehow making that casual stance seem effortlessly beautiful. No-one had noticed the other people arrive. Another Asian woman approached them, her stance revealing that she was not a friend of Reddington's. "You, I don't know."

She introduced herself as, "Meera Malik."

"You look like the CIA." Reddington dryly observed.

"Oh yeah? What does that look like?"

"Attractive, but treacherous." He smirked at her. Was he flirting with her? The thought puzzled Liz.

"I guess we'll find out." Was she flirting back?

Reddington laughed loudly. "This is going to be a gas!" He, Dembe and Luli walked back to the black car. Dembe got behind the wheel, Luli climbed in the front passenger seat, Reddington opened the driver-side back door and waited. "Lizzie, dear?"

"What?" Ressler nudged her forward none-too-gently. Obviously she was expected to go with Reddington. She walked over to the car, whispering to Reddington before she got in. "What did you say to Dembe?"

"That you'd be coming with us. In you get."

She groaned inwardly and climbed in, fastening her seatbelt as Reddington closed her door and climbed in the other side. "Why am I coming with you?" She asked as Dembe started the car and started driving out of the Post Office.

"You'll need-"

"Let me guess, a dress." Reddington smiled. "You don't have to buy me a dress, Red, I have dresses."

He looked sceptical. "Ones nice enough to wear to a party attended by the mayor of New York?"

Liz pondered. "Point taken. You still don't have to buy me one."

"Can you afford to buy a designer dress? Even with what the FBI's paying you?"

She paused. "Why would you think I'm being paid?"

Reddington looked annoyed. "You're not?"

"No-one's mentioned it."

"You're working with them."

"I'm working with _you_." She clarified.

"Well we'll still have to do something about compensation."

"Red, you can't pay me!"

"Why ever not?"

"Because the FBI will find out and they'll be even more suspicious than they already are."

"Then I'll explain to Harold," Assistant Director Cooper, "That anyone working with the FBI should receive recompense for their time and effort, and if he won't authorise your payments then I'll do it." He gave her his 'Raymond Reddington' smile which effectively said 'stop arguing with me, you won't win'.

!"!

Dressed in an Armani black dress, hair perfectly arranged and make-up done by Luli, and wearing very uncomfortable heels, Liz arrived on Reddington's arm to Floriana's party at eight o'clock exactly. Luli and Dembe had driven them to the venue and were staying around 'just in case'. The FBI had commandeered a coat closet on the same floor as the party, handing Liz a bracelet that had a disguised microphone on it, a pair of earrings that had speakers in, so she could stay in contact with them, and another temporary FBI badge with her name and photo on which she hid in her purse. As soon as they got in the room, Liz spotted all the security, both Floriana's and the FBI. Reddington led her through her room, her right hand tucked into his left elbow. Reddington and Luli had champagne, Liz had to stick to sparkling apple juice, and Dembe ordered a beer. From across the room, Liz saw Ressler scolding Dembe for his drink, but he didn't seem bothered.

"My two o'clock?" Liz asked, eyeing a suspicious looking man across the other side of the balcony.

Reddington turned around discreetly. "No. Where are those mushroom puffs?" He asked to himself, walking off.

Liz smiled in spite of herself, taking her drink and moving around the room. She spied Floriana in her red dress, a man whispering in her ear. She looked very upset. Liz hurried over to her, taking hold of her hand gently. "Is everything okay?"

Floriana put on a brave face and squeezed her hand gently. "Yes, of course! It's a wonderful evening for the party."

But something didn't seem right. "What is it?"

The Italian sighed. "A shipment we were trying to track has gone missing."

"Shipment? You mean…"

She nodded grimly. "Girls. More than sixty of them."

"But…But the Bureau could help, right?"

"No, it's too late. They're gone." She whispered sadly, walking off in despair.

Liz continued to circulate in the room, speaking to as many people as she could. She'd become more of a social butterfly since starting college, and no-one seemed to mind her standing with them for a short while until she seamlessly moved on into another group. After an hour or so, she met up with Reddington again.

"Any luck?" She asked as she sat at the bar for another apple juice.

"No. Yourself?"

"Well how could I? I don't know what he looks like." She reminded him. "On the other hand, I've gotten a few phone numbers." She teased, holding up the cocktail napkins with inked in numbers. "All from creepy middle aged guys who were standing with their wives."

"For shame." Reddington joked, putting down his empty champagne glass. "Come on, it's time for the speeches." He held out his elbow again, escorting her back onto the outside balcony.

At the front, a girl only a few years older than Liz stood at the podium. "Good evening. My name is Anya Kedro. I've been asked to say a few words. I spent three years of my life in a 9x9 room. My life was hell. I was forcibly addicted. Although I survived, I still carry a daily reminder. The Ever Hard cartel brand their servants by carving their symbol into our backs. But as bad as I had it, there was always somebody who had it worse. The truth is, only by acknowledging these experiences, can we put a stop to the crime that is human sex trafficking. Tonight I only want to say thank you. Thank you Floriana." The room erupted into polite applause, many people visibly moved by Anya's story.

Floriana embraced Anya and took her place at the podium. "Thank you Anya. And thank you all for coming tonight. As you know, we had to relocate for security reasons. And any of you could have stayed home, succumbed to fear. But you didn't." Floriana smiled. "You came. You are here. You, I, Anya…We all stand here in solidarity, for the people who cannot be here with us. Yet." She raised her glass in a toast, everyone following suit and applauding.

"It's him." Liz paused in her clapping as Reddington's voice came from over her shoulder.

"What?"

"The waiter over there, it's him. The Freelancer."

Liz looked over to where Reddington nodded, seeing a shifty looking waiter. "Oh my god."

"Clear the area. Now."

"What? How am I supposed to-" Reddington was already moving around the edge of the room slowly, Luli following him. Liz shifted uncomfortably, wondering what the best way to clear the room would be. Her choice was made for her when the Freelancer eyed her and started to move back quickly. "Freeze, FBI!" She shouted, sending the guests into a panic. She ran after him as best she could in her shoes, other agents starting to chase after him too. The voices in her ear told her to head to the ground floor in the private elevator the FBI had also commandeered for the night, in case the Freelancer slipped past them on the upper floors. The elevator ride was quick and she ran straight out of the hotel. The Freelancer had jumped off a balcony of one of the lower floors and was heading east on 59th Street.

Flashing her badge at a cab driver, Liz took off in the vehicle, speeding away. She pulled onto the nearest street and spoke into the bracelet the FBI had given her. "Ressler, where are you now?"

"200th west and 57th, he'll be coming out the back."

Liz barely had time to realise that that was exactly where she was, when a man ran in front of the cab and was hit head on. She slammed on the brakes and got out the car, ecstatic to see that the man she had hit had been the man they were chasing.

"Ressler, I've got him."

!"!

The FBI came to pick up the Freelancer straightaway, driving him back to the hotel and taking him down one of the back corridors. Liz headed to the floor Floriana's suite was on, meeting up with her and going with her to the suite. The FBI had already searched her rooms and were guarding the corridor. They headed into her large and spacious suite, Floriana collapsing into an armchair.

"Thank you, thank you so much."

Liz smiled back, her phone vibrating as a call came through. "Don't leave your suite." She headed back out of the suite and down the corridor, answering Ressler's call. "Did the Freelancer talk?"

"_It was Reddington."_

"What?"

"_He hired the Freelancer!"_

"What? No. How could he?" She asked as she got into an elevator and descended back down to the party floor.

"_The coat-check attendant, think about it! The Freelancer didn't leave Reddington the photo of_ _Campo in Reddington's hat; Reddington left it for him! He was signalling the hit!"_

"But why go through all that trouble?"

"_He couldn't get close enough himself. Remember what she said? She has her own security! He needed to get into the party."_

"And that was why he wanted to come tonight! Not because he was the only one who knew what he looked like!" She remembered Floriana being handed a drink. "The Freelancer gave her a drink…"

"_Reddington pointed out the Freelancer as a diversion – he wanted to get her alone."_

"Shit!" Liz cursed into her phone, banging the STOP button on the elevator panel and pressing the floor for Floriana's suite.

"_Are you with her now?"_

"No! I'm in the elevator!" The elevator eventually juddered to a stop and then started to climb back up to the right floor.

"_Get to Campo now!"_

"I'm trying!" She snapped back as she watched the antique elevator handle slowly move back to the twentieth floor. When the needle stopped at twenty and the doors opened, Liz ran down the corridor to Floriana's suite, confused as to why there were no FBI agents in the corridor anymore. Dembe stood guard outside Floriana's suite. "Dembe? What's going on, where are the FBI?" He didn't answer her. He was a foot taller than her, probably double her weight and she knew he would be armed, she couldn't physically force him to open the door. "Dembe, open the door." She said firmly but with a pleading tone of voice. "Dembe! Open. The door!" She snapped. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a key card, swiping the electric lock on the suite door, opening it for her. She hurried inside, finding Floriana gaping at a calm and seated Reddington.

"Thank god! Elizabeth! This is him, the man who wants me killed!" She cried as she clung to Liz's hands.

"You hired the Freelancer." She accused Reddington, who simply looked back at her. "It was the champagne, wasn't it? What's the headline going to be?"

Reddington hummed thoughtfully. "_Italian Dog Born with Two Heads_. No? How about _Humanitarian Exposed as Fraud, Commits Suicide._"

Liz looked back to Floriana. "What have you done to her?"

"Me? Nothing." He stood up and straightened his jacket. "I think the assassin may have given her a lethal cocktail of the same drugs she uses to drug her 'children'."

"What are you talking about?" Liz rushed to Floriana as she started to sweat and become clammy.

"She's not what you think she is, Lizzie."

Floriana cried, "Liar!"

"Who's lying, Floriana?"

"Shut up Raymond!" She snarled.

Reddington smiled wickedly. "Oh that was a mistake."

Liz's head snapped back to look at Floriana in shock. "You know him?"

Floriana flustered for a second. "Everybody knows this son of a bitch!"

Taken aback by her idol's sudden change of behaviour, Liz was too shocked to stop her from collapsing to the floor. She gasped and gagged as she struggled for breath. Crouching down next to her, Liz glanced up to see Dembe enter the room. "Dembe, get a doctor!"

"You don't need a doctor, Lizzie, I have the antidote right here." He patted his jacket pocket.

"Then give it to me!"

"Not until she admits the truth."

"Red, she isn't breathing!" She shouted as she looked around. Grabbing a pen from the table next to her, her brain whirled as she focused on remembering how to do an emergency tracheotomy. "I know what to do, Floriana." She said as calmly as she could, angling the pen right and then forcing it through the Italian's windpipe with the heel of her other hand. Quickly unscrewing the pen and pulling out the spring and ink cartridge, she held the hollow case still in Floriana's neck.

"Floriana Campo is the largest distributor of enslaved children in the Eastern hemisphere. She doesn't free children from slavery, she imprisons them."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh don't be so naïve. Her organisation is a front, all funds go to the Ever Hard cartel, which she runs. Her 'charity work' is her taking out the competition. Good god, she had her own husband murdered." He explained as he crouched down next to the two women, holding a syringe in his hand.

"Red, give me the antidote." Liz said quietly and dangerously. Even if what Reddington was saying was true, she still couldn't let her die. She wouldn't.

"All you have to do is tell her, Floriana. A simple nod will suffice." Under her, Floriana nodded, still gasping for breath. With a disappointed glare, Liz snatched the syringe out of Red's hand and stuck it in Floriana's shoulder, injecting slowly. Liz felt a little tap on her shoulder. She turned and glared at Red again. "What is it with you, hotel rooms and pens in people's necks?" He sounded genuinely curious. Too angry to speak, she jabbed the syringe at him threateningly, not intending to harm him, just let him know that she was upset. She threw the empty syringe away and held the pen again. Reddington gave her an amused smirk as he stood up again.

Ressler and Malik burst into the room. "What's going on?"

"She seems to be dying." Reddington explained casually. From the floor, Floriana kept struggling for breath, the antidote and the pen doing nothing for her. "Yeah, definitely dying."

!"!

Watched over by an agent, Liz had gone down to the waterfront and had watched the sun rise, but not truly taking in the beauteous sight. Floriana Campo had been pronounced dead only two minutes after Ressler and Malik had arrived. The antidote hadn't worked. She hadn't managed to help in the slightest. And now she had lost one of her only idols. But she couldn't call her an idol anymore. Ressler had called her an hour ago, telling her that the Bureau had confirmed everything Reddington had told her in the suite – Floriana had been running the Ever Hard cartel. She had been running millions of dollars through a laundering service which had admitted what services they had provided for her. It all felt too much.

"You look tired, Lizzie." Liz turned to the sound of the voice and saw Reddington sitting a few feet away from her, still in his tux from the party. "You should go home, get some sleep. It's been a long night. Unless you're avoiding your home…"

Not answering his question, she asked, "What would you have done if the antidote had worked on time? She would have spread word that you're working with the FBI."

"Not to worry, there was no antidote."

Liz gave an unimpressed laugh. "Ressler called earlier. You were right, as much as it pains me to admit it. Floriana Campo ran the Ever Hard cartel. They traced her money, questioned a laundering service…Fortunately they were to intercept all the 'shipments' that she was currently running. More than two hundred girls – and boys – have been saved."

"She preyed on the weak and the vulnerable while pretending to be a saint. I detested everything about her."

"I had no idea. It's just…_Somebody_ should have known. Anybody."

"Well we never really know anyone, do we?" He brushed some invisible lint off his knee. "What are you going to do? About Tom? It seems that you have two options; you either turn him in or confront him." He paused, looking out over the water. "Or there might be a third option."

Liz flew back to Washington an hour later, not saying a word to anyone until she was dropped off at her house by Ressler.

"Same time next week?" He joked tiredly.

Liz just smiled in exhaustion and got out of the car. When she was inside, she went straight to the dining room and the dreaded box. Having made up her own on the plane ride over, she used a kitchen knife as a crowbar, pried open the hole in the floor and put the box inside it, putting the section of floor back on top of it. She called a carpet fitter and asked for new carpet to be fitted that same day.

!"!

The hospital called that evening, telling her that Tom was starting to wake up. She got straight into a cab and headed straight there, and she was at his side when he woke up. She kissed his gently, holding his hand as he came round.

"The doctor says you can come home tomorrow. You'll just need physio sessions for a few weeks, then you should be back on your feet."

"Good news." Tom smiled, squeezing her hand.

The nurse asked her to leave at nine o'clock, saying Tom's wound needed to be redressed. She could have argued that she had seen worse, but she was too exhausted, having been awake for nearly thirty-six hours. When she got home, she almost crawled up the stairs and fell into bed fully clothed.

!"!

The next night, Liz looked at the bedside clock for the fifth time that night. 03:49. Sighing quietly through her nose, she gently climbed out of bed trying not to wake Tom, pulled on a robe and headed downstairs, sitting down halfway up the stairs. The sound of her movement had obviously disturbed Hudson, who climbed up the stairs one at a time and crawled into her lap. Liz leant her head against the banister, closing her eyes as she absently stroked Hudson's back. She drifted into sleep for a few minutes, snapping awake by a memory of Zamani's attack. Her screaming. Tom's bloodied face. The glint of their attacker's knife. She couldn't forget.

As prone to sleepless nights as she was, she decided to do something useful. The hospital had given her a bag of Tom's clothes, the ones he wore during the attack. They were covered in blood. Moving Hudson gently out of her lap, Liz headed downstairs into the kitchen. Taking Tom's clothes out of the plastic bag, she looked them over. More memories came back as she stared at the bloodstains. She remembered more blood during the attack. She turned the hot water tap on, letting the water run as she checked Tom's pockets. Removing something from one of the pockets, she turned it over in her hand, blindly reaching over to turn the tap off. A tiny envelope addressed to her. Opening it, she found a USB inside it.

"What the…" She turned her laptop on and waited for it to boot up. When it did, she inserted the USB and opened the folder to it. One file. Clicking on it, she sat back and prepared for the worst as a movie file loaded. The date stamp on the video was the day of Zamani's attack. The day the FBI had called her in. The day she had met Reddington.

Tom's face came into view, the camera moving as he held it in his hands. He grinned widely at the camera. From the background she could tell he was sitting on the stairs. _"Hey Lizzie! So, uh, I'm kinda hoping that this'll be a surprise. I mean, you've probably been expecting this for a while and I hope you'll be happy about it." _Hudson barked on the video. _"Hush, Hudson, I'm talking to mummy. Anyway, I don't know when you'll be home…You had that thing to do today."_ 'That thing' obviously meant going with the FBI to stop Zamani. _"I just, uh, I want this to be special for you. We've been together for almost a year, we've moved in together, and we've gotten this little monster,"_ He picked up Hudson with one hand and held him up to the camera as the puppy licked his chin, _"So I think it's time for the next step, don't you?"_ He grinned as he put Hudson down. The camera fumble for a second before Tom pulled a small red box out of his pocket. _"We both know what's in this box, and I hope that you'll say yes. I know you're wondering why I'm recording this instead of waiting for you to get home tonight, but you know how I mess up my words when I'm nervous!" _He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. _"It's like I said – I want this to be perfect for you. I've been wanting to do this ever since we talked about…About how you want to adopt children, instead of having your own. I, um, I gotta say that when you first told me that, I was confused. But then you told me about your dad. And when I realised….I just…I couldn't have loved you more, and I would be honoured if you'd wear what's in this box." _

Liz had tears streaming down her face as video-Tom told her he loved her and the video ended. She put her head in her hands as she wept, both from joy and emotional exhaustion from having to be strong for so long. He _had_ been planning to ask her to marry him that day. And she would say yes. A box under the floor wasn't going to change that.

!"!

!"!


	3. Wujing

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN BLACKLIST!**

**Why Am I Special?**

**Case 3: Wujing**

_**A/N: Before this chapter is read, I **_**am**_** aware that the legal drinking age in America is 21, and I do not support underage drinking.**_

Following AD Cooper's orders, Liz joined a gym the day after the Freelancer case was finished, and made sure to go every other day for at least an hour. Cooper had been right; she had needed to work out more – not that she was overweight – but her brief interlude of running through the hotel on the night of Floriana Campo's party had almost worn her out. She was working with a personal trainer when she visited the gym, helping her tone her muscles and increase muscle strength. Or something along those lines, Liz had been too exhausted after the session to focus on what he was explaining to her. At his insistence she was also dieting and keeping a food journal to keep track of what she was eating. She had told her trainer that her employer needed regular reports on her progress, which he was happy to provide, given how much Liz was paying for his services. She could only afford this new regimen after Cooper had called her in a bad mood and asked her to designate a bank account for her salary to be paid in to. Reddington had obviously had a word with him about her not being paid for working with them. When Cooper had told her her new wage, she had choked in surprise. She could definitely afford a personal trainer.

A downside to being on the FBI's payroll was that Cooper needed her to fill out endless paperwork. Form after form after form. She also needed to write reports on the cases she was going to be working. She'd had to go in to the Post Office and be put into the system, had her fingerprints and DNA samples registered and given an official FBI badge that, according to the FBI handbook she had finished reading, she was only allowed to use when she was 'on duty'. Cooper and Ressler also took it upon themselves to quiz her at random times about hypothetical situations. What should she do if, what to do when, who should do this, etc. Cooper seemed pleased about her progress at the gym and with the FBI, but was still reluctant to train her with weapons.

The hardest part of her new job had been explaining it to Tom. She had been warned not to say too much to him, but it was very hard for her to hide things from him. Would she still be going to college? Almost certainly not, since she couldn't know when she'd be called in or how long she'd need for a case. After a short debate with herself, she'd called the college and told them that she was dropping out. After she'd put the phone down, she expected to feel regret. It never came. It felt like something she should do. And she wanted to do it. To her it wasn't even a question. She'd only stayed in college because she didn't want to be labelled a drop out. But now she had something more meaningful – and fun – to do.

She hadn't heard from Reddington in nearly a week. She wasn't sure why that bothered her, but it did. After the Freelancer case, he'd called her on her cellphone and told her that he'd call her directly from now on instead of him calling the FBI and them calling her. He gave her a code to use when he called – she should answer the phone as she normally does if she's alone or with the FBI, and use her full name if she 'has company'. He also said that Dembe could pick her up from anywhere if she needed a ride, but she knew she would be uncomfortable using Dembe as a taxi service.

Five days after Tom had come home from the hospital, Liz was downstairs early, not being able to sleep again. That damned box under the floor kept coming back to haunt her dreams. After she'd put it back in its hole, she had honestly thought that she'd be able to try and forget about it. That delusion had lasted two days, until she'd had a nightmare that she'd killed Tom with it and put his body under the floor along with the box. But today, she was going to do something about it. She was going to get a bullet sample from the gun and have it checked through the FBI's system. Her training with the FBI was rubbing off on her. Obviously she couldn't have it run herself; that would raise too many questions. She was going to put the test in through a different name, telling whoever she spoke to in the Ballistics department that she had been asked to deliver the bullet for someone who had been too busy at the time to take it to Ballistics themselves. She knew it was risky, but she had to try. God knows what that gun could have been used for. She had to know.

Liz snuck downstairs before 6am on the fifth morning, getting the box out of the floor, taking the gun out of it. Fetching a bucket out of a cupboard in the kitchen, she put all the unwanted catalogues and newspapers into it, taking that, the gun and a small sandwich bag into the backyard. That day was trash day, and the truck would be coming any minute. She filled the bucket with water, soaking the catalogues. She heard the truck approach from down the street. Taking the safety off the gun, she put the tip against the top catalogue and held a small bag of soil over it, burying the nozzle. The truck pulled up outside their house. Any second now…She heard the garbage men chatting amongst themselves, and then the alarm on the truck sounded. She pulled the trigger, masking the sound of the shot under the noise made by the truck.

Putting the bag of soil and gun down, Liz put the empty bullet case in the sandwich bag and turned back to the bucket. The bullet had gone through the first few catalogues, lodged inside one in the middle of the bucket. She pulled it out gently, looking at it curiously before putting it with the casing. Tucking the bag into her pocket, she threw the catalogues into the trashcan outside, tipped the water in the bucket away and went back inside. She put the bullet and case in her bag, now having another reason to hope that Reddington called soon.

!"!

A couple of hours later, she made breakfast for Tom, determined to bring up the proposal video she had seen last week. She wanted him to know that she was going to say yes, if he still wanted her to. She carried Tom's wheelchair downstairs and then helped him come down the stairs, one at a time.

"I'm used to you helping me _up_ the stairs, not down them." He joked, giving her a grateful kiss when she helped him into the wheelchair at the bottom.

"Yeah, and that's only when you're wasted. You deserve some special treatment." She smiled back, giving him a second kiss, wheeling him into the dining room. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"A serious talk." He answered back, looking at her seriously.

"How about coffee instead?" She asked, making them both a mug of the drink.

"Lizzie, you've quit college."

"Yep."

"And now you're working with the FBI?"

"Yep."

"But you're not becoming an agent?"

"Nope." He looked at her, hoping for more explanations. "You know I can't tell you much."

"I just don't understand. One day, you're going to college, everything's normal. Then the next, the FBI ask for your help and you're, what, solving crimes with them?"

"Sort of." He sighed in annoyance. She put their coffees on the table and crouched down in front of him. "You know I'd tell you if I could. But I can't."

"Lizzie, a man broke into our house."

"I know."

"And that was part of your 'work'?"

"Yes. But he's gone, he was killed."

"So it's over?"

"Yes…_That_ case is over."

"Case? What 'cases' are you working on?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I just hate that there are things you have to hide from me."

Her phone rang. She picked it up off the table and saw the ID. Nick's Pizza; the name she had given Reddington's number. "Be right back." She kissed his forehead. She answered the phone. "Liz Scott." Then there was a knock on the front door. She walked through the house and opened it, smiling when she saw one of her best friends, Ellie. She mouthed a greeting and let her in.

"_Good, you're using the code. Remember to be vague in your answers, and don't mention my name. Is everything okay?"_

"Uh-huh." She answered, closing the front door and following Ellie back into the kitchen, watching her pull out food from her bag. "Hang on, I'll call you back." She hung up on Reddington, snapping her flip-phone closed. "Ellie, what are you doing?"

"What's it look like, I'm making breakfast!"

"Honey, you don't have to do that!" Liz smiled, secretly pleased – Ellie was an amazing cook, much better than her or Tom, who was a great cook himself.

"Are you kidding me? My omelettes could grow back limbs! Anyway, friends don't let friends starve when they've almost been killed by burglars!" She had told their friends that Zamani's attack had been a violent break-in. "I'm cooking breakfast and then I'm going to run the lump," She grinned at Tom, "To physical therapy, I've got the day off. Some of the guys," Their friends from college, "Are coming over tonight so you'd better be here!"

"You're hosting a party in _our_ house? Thanks for asking us first." Tom joked.

"It's a 'Welcome Home' party for you, you nimrod!" Ellie nodded her head at Tom, who had turned his wheelchair around to face them. "How's he doing?" She asked Liz.

"I'm sitting right here!"

"I'm not asking you because you'll say that you're fine, like you always do!" She spread out her ingredients and got a mixing bowl out, knowing her way around their kitchen better than Liz did. "Anyway, what's this I hear about you dropping out?" She gave Liz a soft glare.

"Ellie, you know I haven't been enjoying it. It was just a waste of money."

"But you've already paid for the whole of this year! You might as well still go to classes, just to learn stuff."

"That's what I've said." Tom mumbled, drinking some coffee.

"Guys, two against one isn't fair." Liz smiled. "Besides, I've got a job now."

"Really?"

"It's a secret." Tom interjected, earning a slap on the arm from Liz. "Ow."

"It's not a secret, it's just admin stuff. You know, like a secretary."

"You quit college to be a secretary? You're gonna do the 'nine til five' thing?"

"Sort of, my hours are pretty irregular, but the money's really good. There are a lot of opportunities for promotion too, and my boss already likes me." She lied, feeling a bit bad for deceiving her friends. Her phone rang again. It was Reddington. "Guys, I gotta take this." She hurried upstairs into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. "Alright, alright, sorry I hung up on you."

"_Denver or Colorado?"_ Reddington asked seriously. Another code of his – Denver meant 'safe' and Colorado was 'danger'.

"Denver. My friend just showed up and she started cooking."

"_Wonderful! Well clear your schedule for today – we've got another one."_ He gave her an address and told her to be there in an hour. She wanted to take the bullet sample in the Post Office first, knowing that if Reddington went with her, she wouldn't have the opportunity. From the street name he had given her, she knew she would have to leave straight away if she wanted to get both done. And she'd wanted to talk to Tom…

When Reddington hung up on her, she changed into smart trousers, a blouse and jacket, then went back downstairs. "Guys, I gotta go to work now."

"Well wait five minutes, the omelettes are nearly ready!"

"No I can't, I gotta get there on time. I'll have one for dinner. We owe you big time, Ellie." She gave Ellie a tight squeeze and kissed her cheek and then went back to Tom. "You know I wouldn't go if I didn't have to."

"Well the sooner you go and get it done, the sooner our lives can go back to normal."

"Exactly." She smiled at him and kissed him again, taking her bag, coat and the keys to Tom's car on the way out.

!"!

According to her GPS, luckily for Liz, the Post Office was on the way to the address Reddington gave her. She parked in the underground parking lot, showed her new FBI ID to the guards and was let in. She headed straight to the Ballistics department, working out her story on the way there. She stopped in front of the counter to the department, waiting for someone to come and see her.

She handed the bag with the bullet and case to the man behind the counter. "Hi. Uh, Agent Ressler asked me to give you this. He needs to know if it matches any crimes in the system. Can it be done today? You know how he gets." She gave him a smile.

He smiled back. "Sure, no problem."

Oh thank god…Liz headed back to the parking lot, thanking whatever gods exist that Cooper and Ressler hadn't seen her. She drove to the address feeling quite pleased with herself.

!"!

The neighbourhood was quite high-end and the address turned out to be a hat shop. Of course. Liz parked the car, seeing Dembe parked across the street. She gave him a smile and headed into the shop. The only customer in the shop was Reddington, dressed in a three piece suit as per usual, standing in front of a mirror, angling a fedora hat on his head.

"Lizzie!" He called as he saw her enter the shop. "An opportunity has come our way. Yesterday the Chinese killed a CIA agent and tried to use his computer to decode an encrypted message they had previously intercepted. They failed, and so they've asked for my help." Liz gestured to the cashier in a clear 'why are you telling me this in front of him?' way. Reddington patted the cashier's arm in a friendly manner. "Roderick is a dear friend of mine."

"Okay then…Wait! You're decoding CIA messages for the Chinese?" She asked in shock.

"You make it sound like treason, like it's black and white. It's not. It's green." He obviously meant it was all about money. He took her elbow gently, leading her further into the store. "The truth is, American secrets are for sale. By myself and other reputable vendors. If I don't do this, someone else will. The man who's paying me is called Wujing. Have you ever heard of him?"

"Yeah, isn't he some urban legend?"

"Not quite. He used to work for the Ministry of State Security. The Chinese don't officially hire him, but he's unofficially contracted to take out rival agents. American, British…The encrypted message probably contains the name of another undercover agent."

"Hang on a minute. You want me to believe that you've been hired by _the_ Wujing to help kill an undercover CIA agent?" She couldn't believe it.

"I'm glad you're following."

"Red, he's a myth."

"That's what they said about deep throat and the G-spot." She smiled in amusement. "We have the chance to stop him. I've already sent them your cover."

"My…My cover?"

"Caroline Gibbons, a youth savant of encryption and decryption who I contract with from time to time."

"Red, I can barely use my laptop!" She protested.

"You're a quick study."

"You're also asking me to betray the life of a CIA agent."

"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. The Intelligence agencies have been wondering about Wujing for decades, unsure if he's even real. And I'm telling you that he is, and we can catch him. Best part is that he's not in China, he's right here in DC. If everything goes to plan, I can still be in Lisbon by breakfast."

!"!

Liz headed back to the Post Office to give Cooper a report. Everyone met in the BR and the moment Liz said the name Wujing, people began to murmur amongst themselves and Meera Malik dived onto a computer and began typing furiously.

"I've got the names of the agents killed by Wujing." She brought up three photos of bodies on the computer screen, two shot and one burnt. Liz tried not to look. "Michael Alvarado, Kevin Wyatt and Brice Jenson. Three undercover agents all killed in China."

Cooper asked, "What do we know about Wujing?"

"China has a one child policy; legend says that he was the second son, so his parents gave him away the night he was born. He was invisible, and he used that in a business where invisibility is an asset."

"And Reddington says he can find this guy?"

"Wujing hired him to decode a message intercepted from the CIA. He believes that it might contain the name of another undercover agent in China."

"We should do this." Cooper said forcefully, Ressler and Meera nodding along.

"Sir…" Liz spoke up, gaining their attention, "I'm not prepared to do this."

Cooper smiled at her somewhat patronisingly. "I understand that you're nervous-"

"Nervous? You want me to spy on a notorious spy-killer while pretending to be an expert on a subject that I know nothing about!"

"Reddington insists that it be you." Cooper pointed out.

Liz hesitated, but remained firm. "I'm sorry. I really am."

No-one said anything for a few seconds. Cooper looked disappointed. Meera looked upset but understanding. Ressler stalked over to Liz, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her over to the computer screen. He growled in her ear, "Look at those pictures. If there is a name in that message and Wujing succeeds, there'll be another picture in that file. And that'll be on _you_."

Liz breathed heavily in anger for a minute, looking at the pictures as her stomach turned in disgust and anger. She looked at Ressler, her face only a few inches from his. She leant in an inch and gave a deadly whisper. "Fine."

!"!

On her way to the parking lot, Liz got her phone out of her pocket and called Reddington. Dembe was the one to answer the phone, telling her the address of the hotel Reddington was staying at. She drove straight there, parking her car across the street.

Dembe stood next to another expensive car, this time silver. He gave her a respectful nod when she approached. "Good morning Miss Scott."

"Hi Dembe. And you can call me Liz." She gave him a nervous smile when he just nodded again. He seemed nice enough, but not particularly talkative. As someone who could talk all day, Liz found herself unsure of what to do with Dembe; whether she should stand in silence or natter aimlessly. Thankfully Reddington came out of the hotel, Luli behind him. "Okay, say I do this…What do I get out of it?"

He laughed at her. "You're as bad as a camel-trading Bedouin."

"Seriously, Red."

"What do you want?"

"An answer, for once. I want to know why you chose me."

He took hold of her elbow and propelled her towards the car, opening the back door for her. "Well then we had best get a move on. Things are already in play."

Liz mumbled under her breath as she climbed into the car. "I'm getting whiplash from all this coming and going." She saw Dembe smile in the rear-view mirror.

!"!

On the drive over, Reddington told Liz to call Ressler and ask for blueprints to a building called WDCJ, a radio station. Ressler asked her what that building had to do with anything, but instead of asking Reddington for an answer, she just hung up, still irritated over his attitude towards her earlier.

"Problem with Donald?"

"Not at all."

They arrived back at the Post Office and were immediately taken to the BR. Ressler had done as asked and a copy of the blueprints were laid out on an architect's work bench. Liz sat on the stool accompanying it, examining the plans as Reddington gave the brief.

"WDCJ, a small radio station five miles from here. The building was purchased six years ago by a company fronting for the Chinese government."

Ressler scoffed in disbelief. "You're telling us that Wujing is running a spy ring in a radio station?"

Reddington laughed, looking at Liz. "Isn't he adorable?" Liz chuckled. "We'll meet Wujing, you decode the message, and transmit it to the FBI."

"But if I decode the message then the Chinese get it too."

"Exactly, then the race begins."

Meera spoke up. "We try to save him, the Chinese try to kill him."

"We could give them a false message." Ressler suggested.

Reddington was firm. "No." They didn't seem to listen to him.

"That might work, we could send them in the other direction."

"I said no." Reddington said louder. "The Chinese may not know what the message is but they definitely know what it isn't. We do this for real or we don't do it at all."

"Okay, this is a…A _thrilling_ plan," She gave Reddington an encouraging smile, "But as I said earlier, I know nothing about encryption."

"I have a contact who can help with that." Meera suggested. "I called him earlier, he's already here." She motioned for Liz to follow her as she walked off. Reddington smiled at her and gave her a pat on the back. She rolled her eyes and followed Meera, meeting up with a Chinese man, who started to speak fast Mandarin at her, holding up a small piece of technology that Liz didn't even recognise. "He says that the Chinese will give you the encrypted message on one of these. Insert that and this device into the laptop. It's a data-locker, Shun-Li says it's like a magic box."

"Magic box? Are you sure you're translating right?" Liz asked nervously as Shun-Li handed her a cubic piece of technology.

Meera frowned at her and continued. "The data-locker works by using a key which will translate the message in a few seconds, and it'll appear on your laptop."

"So that's it? I plug this cube into the laptop, plug the coded message into the laptop, type the code into the cube, and then the message is translated?"

"Yeah."

"Well what if it doesn't work, I'll be screwed. And how do I get the message to you?"

"You don't have to, the laptop will do it for you, you just need a satellite connection. If you don't have one, use this." Shun-Li handed her a tiny pit of plastic with a USB neck. "This has a control mirroring programme, it'll give our technology on the outside control of the systems inside, just plug it into one of the Chinese computers." She looked at Liz's still sceptical face. "You'll be fine." She spoke in Mandarin to Shun-Li. "Come on, we'll get you ready."

!"!

Two hours later, the FBI had staked out a bakery a block away from the radio station, setting up disguised groups of FBI agents around the perimeter. Inside the bakery, Liz was being given some advice on how to pull off an undercover story, as well as last minute technological advice, while she just wanted to throw up.

Aram, a tech worker for the FBI, spoke up. "Three minutes to go."

"Where the hell is Reddington?" Ressler grumbled.

"Liz, do you smoke?" Meera asked, holding a nicotine patch.

"No, but I'll take a bottle of vodka if you've got one."

She smiled. "Well now you do smoke. Well, you're trying to quit. This is CIA's latest technology, a very sensitive transmitter. It's got a range of three-hundred yards above ground and it doesn't have any metal in it so it won't show up if you get wanded."

"What if you're wrong?"

Meera just smiled. "I'm not wrong." Liz nudged her shirt collar down and Meera put the patch on her shoulder.

Ressler started to grumble. "If Reddington doesn't show, he'll blow the entire-"

"What are we waiting for?" Everyone looked over to the back door and saw Reddington standing there with a smile on his face. Liz took a deep breath and stood up, Meera giving her an encouraging pat on the back.

"Got everything Shun-Li gave you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got everything."

"If the Chinese say anything about how complex the encryption was, just say that the government has been experimenting with _better factoring algorithms_ and theirs will soon be obsolete. It'll make you sound clever." Meera joked.

"Better. Factoring. Algorithms…Okay…Can I throw up?" She asked the CIA agent, who just smiled and told her she'll be fine.

"Off we go, Lizzie." Reddington said cheerfully, opening the back door to the bakery for her. "Now remember, you're a technological terrorist who works for the highest bidder."

"Oh I sound charming." She bit back sarcastically, forcing down her nausea. "Do you do a lot of undercover work?"

He chuckled. "I'm nauseous too."

They crossed the street and walked down to the radio station, Liz taking slow breaths through her nose, breathing in the fresh air while she still could. Reddington held the door to the building open for her and followed her through. A man in a grey suit walked straight up to them.

"This way please." They followed him through the building into a small windowless office. He held up a handheld metal detector. "Sorry, Mr Reddington, it's protocol. If you wouldn't mind, Miss Gibbons." Reddington nudged her forward with a hand on her back, taking her bag for her. Ever the gentleman. Liz extended her arms, letting the man scan her. Her heart stopped for a second as he passed over the patch Meera had given her, but started again when the detector didn't beep. The man stepped away from her. "Thank you." She nodded and took her bag back from Reddington. Then it was his turn. Nothing in his torso or legs, but when the wand passed over the right side of his neck, it whirred loudly.

"Eight millimetre DARPA tracking chip. I was taken by Somali pirates last year and spent three weeks locked in a shipping container. First two were terrible!" He pondered. "Third one was quite pleasant. Even so, I'd rather it not happen again." The man looked sceptical, wanding Reddington's neck again. The wand beeped again. "If you have some morphine and a clean blade, I'll remove it for you."

The man recovered and smiled. "Not necessary, sir. But I will need a print scan from your friend."

Reddington insisted. "She's with me."

"Understood, sir. But my orders are to scan any and all newcomers."

Reddington sighed dramatically but nodded Liz forward. Inside she panicked, knowing that she was now in the FBI's system. She pressed her thumb to the device the man held out to her. "What database do you check?"

He smiled evilly at her. "All of them."

They waited for a minute or so in silence, all waiting for the results. What would happen if the result came back? Liz didn't want to know.

"So you went with grey…" Reddington commented absently as he looked around the room.

A minute later, the man straightened up and smiled. "All is in order, sir. If you'd like to follow me." He led them through another room and to a metal gate, opening it for them. Liz stepped inside what was clearly a service elevator. "Your DARPA chip won't work where you're going. Wujing will explain when you get there."

"Get where?" Reddington asked as he stepped inside too. The man didn't answer, just smiled at them. The elevator lurched downwards, taking them underneath the building.

"How far down do you think we're going?"

"Far enough." The journey down in the elevator seemed to go on for hours. The further down they went, the more anxious Liz started to feel, feeling the claustrophobia starting to kick in. Reddington picked up on this. "Take a breath, Lizzie."

"God…I quit college for this." She whispered through a shaky breath, unzipping her leather jacket.

He looked at her in surprise. "You quit college?"

"Of course I quit college!" She snapped. With a scoff, she hissed, "I can't believe that you're actually surprised that I'd drop out. If I hadn't, I could be in class right now, I could be safe and not terrified-"

"But that wouldn't be as fun, would it?" He grinned back at her. She was too scared to grin back. "You didn't quit college for me and my little list, did you?"

She looked at him in annoyance. He'd hit the nail on the head. She waited until he looked at her. "I did actually, yeah."

Then he grinned at her. "Good."

The elevator came to a stop, a cave-like room opening up in front of them. Reddington opened the grate door and stepped out of the elevator, holding the door open for Liz and closing it behind her.

A Chinese man in jeans and jacket approached Reddington with a smile. "My friend."

"Don't be cheeky, Wujing, you don't have friends." He stepped to the side. "My associate, Caroline Gibbons."

"Miss Gibbons." Wujing took hold of her hand, holding it tightly in his own. "When Mr Reddington said his new associate was young, I didn't expect someone quite as young as you."

"Don't be fooled by the baby face, Wujing, she's one of the best at this game." Reddington said quickly, saving her from having to cover herself. "You've made changes." He remarked as he looked around the oppressive room.

"Yes, we had to increase security."

"I can imagine – four CIA and FBI agents killed in the past eighteen months. You've been busy. I assume that nothing gets in or out, no satellite signals…" He looked Liz in the eye. "Nothing but trust."

"Please don't be offended, dear friend. I can't risk American surveillance. Only our systems are linked to the world above."

Liz chewed the inside of her cheek, casually looking around for a computer that she could plug the mirror programme chip in to.

"Let's get to work, shall we?" Reddington asked, urging Liz to follow Wujing over to another man. Reddington stood close to her, his hand in the middle of her back.

"My new Senior Cryptographer, Jin-Sun." Wujing introduced.

Liz and Jin shook hands. "We expected the standard oscillation encryption programming, but this was much stronger."

Meera's word of advice rushed into her head. Trying to sound as casual as she could, she calmly explained, "The government's been experimenting with better factoring algorithms. It's only a matter of time before ours is obsolete." She nodded along with what she was saying.

Jin-Sun nodded too and smiled. "You're right."

Reddington tapped her on the back a few times and smiled widely, obviously letting her know she had done well. "I'll just need a few minutes to set up my things."

Jin-Sun showed her to a desk and then went back to his own. Liz took out the things Shun-Li had given her, quickly hiding the mirroring chip in her pocket and turned the laptop on. Remembering how to connect all the wires, she sat down at the desk a few minutes later when everything was connected. The only thing she needed was a satellite signal, but she needed to access someone's computer. Jin-Sun's was the only option available as all the others were being used by other people.

Reddington came over to her, resting his hand on the back of the chair she sat in. "Everything in order?"

"Just another minute, Mr Reddington." Using a notepad programme on the laptop, she smoothly typed out, _'need satellite signal'. _She felt Reddington look over her shoulder casually.

"Do you get home much, Jin-Sun?" Reddington asked.

He shook his head. "Not for two years."

"Oh, that must be so hard. It would be for me, I don't use phones. I like to deliver all my messages in person." From behind her, Reddington stroked his thumb against Liz's back, using the code they had talked about on the drive over to the Post Office earlier. Liz typed back, _'no time for in person,, agent will die'_. "What province are you from?" He asked Jin-Sun.

"Yunnan."

Reddington gasped. "Such a beautiful part of the country. I spent a month in a monastery near Kunming, in silent meditation." Liz typed, '_must access jin's computer,, ideas?'. _"It was such a wonderful break from the world. Away from all the distractions." He stroked her back. "I can't imagine that there would be any distractions down here, do you, Caroline?" He stroked her back again at the word 'distraction'.

She shook her head. "No, I don't suppose there are." _'distraction please'_.

"Excellent!" Reddington said loudly, moving off into the middle of the room. What on earth was he planning? "What the hell is that?" Everyone in the room looked at him. "I swear if we run into the same trouble I had with you in Hong-Kong…" He threatened Wujing. "In all the years of working together, I have never put you in a position like this! You know how I conduct my business! I don't need this kind of crap!" Liz stood up slowly as she saw everyone focus on Reddington, with an armed guard moving forward. "You assured me that this place was secure."

"It is."

"Then what the hell is that?" He demanded, gesturing to a monitor that showed a view of the street and one of the FBI's undercover vans. "That van! It was there when we arrived and it's still there now! That is the FBI!" Liz slowly walked over to Jin-Sun's desk, pulled the mirroring chip out of her pocket and stuck it into a USB slot on the side of Jin-Sun's laptop. "With all the scans and the wands and the elevator you built that goes down to Middle Earth, you don't bother to sweep the streets around you? This is ridiculous!" Reddington cried in mock outrage. Liz glanced at the screen of Jin-Sun's laptop, the mirroring chip was a quarter loaded.

"Calm down, old friend." Wujing chided.

"You're under surveillance!"

"If that is the FBI outside, it's because you led them here." Wujing accused. Half loaded.

Reddington got closer to Wujing, speaking in a deadly hush. "I've been moving through the world without a trace for twenty years, and now some two-bit spy-killer is going to put my life and business in jeopardy?"

Wujing picked up his telephone and spoke Mandarin into it, everyone watching with baited breath as they watched a man leave the building and casually walk towards to the van. The men around the van started packing up and then drove off. Liz glanced down at the mirroring chip, glad to see the little red light turn green. Reddington looked back to her and she gave him a quick wink. He looked back to Wujing who put the phone down. "See? Nothing. Now can we continue?"

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Wujing. To put Miss Gibbons and I in such danger, it's unprofessional. I've had enough-"

"Enough!" Wujing shouted, having had enough of Reddington's tantrum.

"You're right. You're right, I'm sorry. It's been a long day." He looked at Liz. "Are you ready, Caroline?" She nodded and headed back to the desk she was using, sitting back down. Reddington came to stand behind her, leaning on his left arm, an inch away from Liz. She knew he was doing it as a support for her, some small form of comfort in the scary situation she wasn't used to.

Jin-Sun handed her a small memory stick, just like the one Shun-Li had shown her. She inserted it into the laptop and the encrypted email came up on screen. Typing in the code Shun-Li had given her for the data-locker, she had never felt so relieved to see the symbols on the email change one by one into English.

"God I miss the days of the pay-phones and brush-passes." Reddington commented, having a little laugh to himself.

The message finished translating and a small picture of a man's face popped up at the end of the email. Liz clicked on it to make it bigger. "There we go. Henry Cho. This was sent from a CIA server and received by one at the Nanjing Gran Hotel yesterday." Jin-Sun moved back to his desk, typing quickly.

"So Mr Cho, why are the CIA contacting you at your hotel?" Wujing mused aloud.

"Henry Cho works for Zhongku Construction, here in DC. His immigration file says that he's been to the company headquarters in Shanghai six times in the last ten months. He arrived back from China three days ago."

"Get me the number for Zhongku." Wujing moved back into his office when Jin-Sun had told him.

"I think your work is done, Caroline." Reddington said. "Pack up your things, dear."

Liz nodded numbly, disconnecting all the wires to and from her laptop, removing the memory stick with the encrypted message. Packing it all away into her bag, she and Reddington waited. Wujing got through to the construction company and pretended to be a friend of Henry Cho's, manipulating the person on the other end of the line into telling him where Henry Cho was, and he quickly hung up. Giving orders in Mandarin, three of the armed guards quickly left the bunker through a back door. The elevator was obviously for visitors. He beckoned Reddington over, who patted her back in a comforting gesture. Liz stood up, resting her bag on the desk. She stood casually by Jin-Sun's desk, desperately trying to think of a way to get the mirroring chip out of his laptop without him noticing. Since the classic 'what's that over there?' wouldn't work, she came up dry as Wujing handed Reddington a red envelope. Reddington simply took it from him and walked back over to her.

"Time to go." She flicked her eyes down to Jin-Sun's laptop. "Leave it." He whispered as he passed her by and picked up her bag, walking towards the elevator.

Suddenly an alarm buzzed throughout the room and the elevator door locked down. "Stop!" Wujing shouted. Liz's heart started to beat faster. They had been so close…She took her bag off Reddington's shoulder, he'd need his hands free more than she would. "You were right earlier. Maybe that _was_ the FBI. Maybe they're not just outside. Maybe they're inside too."

"Think hard before you accuse anyone of anything." Reddington threatened.

"A few minutes ago," Wujing explained, "Contact was made to an FBI server from inside this room. The message that I worked very hard to intercept was sent to the Americans. Now, all my instincts said it was her." He pointed at Liz, and she had to will herself not to move back or appear too scared. "You're smart, my dear. But our systems are smarter. All contact with a government server is flagged for review. And I know who betrayed us."

Everyone in the room was stunned when Wujing turned around and suddenly started beating Jin-Sun violently, forcing him to the ground and continuing his assault. "Get him up." Wujing ordered two brutes, who hauled the bloodied man to his feet. "I thought you were loyal, Jin-Sun."

"I am!" He wept.

"The message was sent from your system, Jin-Sun."

"No, no, that's not possible!"

"And you didn't just give them that message, you gave them everything! Files we've worked on for months! No-one else had access to those files!" He kneed the poor man in the stomach, making him double-up in pain.

"We have to do something!" Liz urged quietly, moving past Reddington.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back behind him. "Be quiet."

"We can't let them do this, Red!" She whispered.

Wujing spoke in harsh Mandarin at Jin-Sun, moving around him and picking up his laptop, smashing it on the floor next to him. Jin-Sun looked over the laptop in despair, and then freezing. He had seen the mirroring chip. He slowly looked up at Liz. She shook her head minutely, silently begging him not to say anything. Reddington's head moved down slightly. He had seen it too.

Jin-Sun raised his hand. "You-!"

Quicker than she could have anticipated, Reddington grabbed the closest guard's gun and shot Jin-Sin in the chest three times. Liz recoiled in shock and the guard snatched the gun back, aiming it at Reddington.

"As entertaining as all this has been, we really do have to leave now." Reddington said smoothly, not even bothered by how he had just killed an innocent man. "The next sound you hear is going to be the FBI knocking on your door and I, for one, don't plan on being here. Wujing, look at me!"

The shocked Chinese man stared at Reddington for a second before grabbing the gun from the closest guard. "You don't kill my people!" He aimed at Liz. "So now I have to kill one of yours."

The atmosphere in the room changed. Reddington stepped in front of Liz. "The moment Jin-Sun sent that message, he was worthless to you. You would have beaten him for half an hour, then killed him yourself. But if I let you kill a loyal contractor of mine, I'll lose the trust of all my others. And that's bad for business. So if you kill her, you had better kill me. Or I'm going to kill you." And Liz believed him. Even with the cold metal of a gun pressed against the back of her head from another armed guard, she took comfort in the fact that Reddington would protect her.

Summoning the courage to speak, Liz said as loudly and calmly as she could, "You hired me to do a job. It's done. So let's get out of here."

Wujing seemed to struggle with that for a second. Eventually he lowered the gun. "Follow me, I have another way out of here."

Liz's shoulders visibly sagged as the gun retreated. Reddington took hold of her elbow and pulled her after Wujing.

!"!

The other way out was endless corridors and staircases. They hurried through the dimly lit spaces, Liz's heart pounding as they almost ran up the flights of stairs, her legs starting to feel like jelly after seven or eight flights, her stomach still churning. Reddington seemed unfazed as he followed behind her, occasionally touching her back or her arm in a reminder that he was there and an encouragement not to stop. She was grateful for it, as unnerved as she was that he had so calmly killed an innocent man only a few minutes ago. They finally came to a door and emerged into the fresh air of daylight, the man who had welcomed them into the building waited outside. Liz sucked in a lungful of the cool air, feeling her stomach calm slightly.

"I've spent three years building this base." Wujing cried in angst. "Now my operation is burnt!"

"So build another base." Reddington mused in annoyance.

They hurried over to a nearby 4x4. The man and Wujing got in the front, while Reddington pulled open the back door, almost shoving Liz into the car as he climbed in after her. She settled into the driver-side seat and put her seatbelt on, gripping her bag, her knuckles turning white as the car pulled out into the traffic of the street.

After a few minutes of driving, Wujing offered up, "I can get us out of the country."

"Thank you, but we can muddle through ourselves." Reddington rebuffed politely. "Anywhere up here in the shade will be fine." The nameless man nodded and pulled over. Liz climbed out of the car, quickly having an idea. Reddington climbed out his side and walked around to her as the car drove off. "I feel like I should apologise, Lizzie. Our deal was to actually catch the criminals of the Blacklist, and now Wujing will be halfway to Beijing."

"I wouldn't say so…" She smiled proudly. He looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. Instead of answering, she pulled down the collar of her shirt where the patch Meera had given her had been. She'd put it on the car.

Reddington grinned widely at her. "Clever girl, Lizzie, well done."

The silver car from earlier pulled up right in front of them a second later, Dembe and Luli getting out. "Is everything okay?" Dembe asked.

"We're fine." Reddington answered, getting in the other side of the car. Luli opened the door for Liz and ushered her into it with a hand on her back. What was it with Reddington and his friends and constantly touching people? She didn't mind it much, she just wondered. "Hotel please, Dembe."

On the way back to the hotel, Ressler called her and updated her. He and Meera had stopped the Chinese assassination of Henry Cho, he and his son were fine. Wujing had been caught, thanks to the tracking patch Liz had put on the car. The mirroring chip Liz had used on Jin-Sun's computer had given Aram everything in the Chinese system, and they were working on intercepting other assassination attempts. And the FBI had stormed the radio station from the back entrance they come out of, arresting the other workers in Wujing's base. Liz's smile had grown wider as the phone call progressed, telling Reddington everything when she'd hung up. He had nodded, not saying anything, but she could tell he was happy with the day's results.

The car pulled up outside the hotel. "Can you give us a minute please?" Dembe and Luli got out of the car without a word, leaving them alone in the car. "Luli will stay with me, Dembe can take you wherever you need to go." He offered.

Liz hesitated as she looked out the window absently. "You didn't need to kill him. Jin-Sun, he didn't have to die."

Reddington seemed to ponder his next words. "I believe that I will always do whatever I have to, to keep you alive."

Liz's head turned and she looked at him, both moved and shocked by his words. And she believed him again. He had killed someone today. To keep her alive. He seemed to wait for her to answer, but then nodded when she didn't, starting to open his car door. Liz quickly reached over him and pulled it shut. He looked at her in disbelief and amusement. "I held up my part of the bargain! A deal's a deal, you owe me an answer."

He smiled uncomfortably. "What's the question?"

"Why me?"

He waited a breath before answering. "Because of your father."

She hadn't been expecting that! "My father? Did you two know each other?"

He didn't say anything for a long time, looking out his window. She shook her head in aggravation when it seemed like he wasn't going to answer her. "I wish the answer were as simple as the question sounds. But the truth is, the question isn't a simple one." She slumped back in the seat in annoyance. "I share your frustration, Lizzie."

She scoffed loudly in disbelief. "You know, you act like we're the same! We are not the same! I have a life, I have friends, I have people who care about me!" She didn't care that she seemed to be hurting him. "What do you have?" She sneered.

"I have you."

She gaped at him for the longest time, unable to process the heaviness of that statement. She turned it over and over in her mind, but in the end she just got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Crossing the street back to her car, she got the keys out of her bag, climbed in and sat in thought for a few minutes. She watched Reddington get out of his car and head into the hotel with Dembe and Luli. He has her? What was that even supposed to mean? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. When she felt calm enough, she started the car and drove back to the Post Office. Heading straight to the Ballistics department, she waited for a few minutes for the man to finish the tests and print her off the results. He smiled at her as he gave her the envelope. She smiled back tiredly, waiting until she rounded the corner to stuff it quickly into her bag. Knowing she couldn't just walk straight back out – the Ballistics officer was going to be expecting her to hand the report to Ressler – she headed into the Briefing Room to buy some time before it would be safe for her to leave.

Ressler caught up with her when she walked in. "Hey."

She looked at his bruised and cut face. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Chinese mafia acrobats." They chuckled lowly together. "Look, Scott, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute." He ushered her into a nearby office. The name on the desk said it was his. "First thing is that I'm sorry for how I spoke to you earlier."

"It's okay, I understand."

"Well I still shouldn't have manhandled you like I did." She nodded in agreement. "And you did good work today. Without you, Henry Cho wouldn't be alive, or his son. Whatever else happened in that bunker, you should feel good about that."

She nodded bravely. "Thanks, Ressler."

"You can call me Donald if you want, or Don."

She smiled, suddenly feeling exhausted, the events of the day catching up with her. "See you around…Don."

!"!

She drove back to her house, hitting rush-hour traffic, getting home just before seven. She pulled up and turned the engine off, not getting out. The report was burning a hole in her bag, but even then she doubted whether she wanted to know what it said. She knew she had to know. She pulled the envelope out of her bag, opening it and pulling the sheet of paper out. There was the basic information like the date of the test, the examiner, the type of bullet that was tested and pictures of the bullet and case. But the rest of the report was blacked out, with the word 'classified' across the paper. That scared Liz more than anything that could have been in it – the crime, or crimes, that the gun had been used for was being kept secret. And that meant it was undoubtedly serious. So her boyfriend wasn't just hiding a gun, dozens of passports and half a million dollars – he was hiding a gun that had been used in a very serious crime. She forced back her tears, desperate not to cry when she knew that her house was full of her friends that were expecting to see her. She put the report back in her bag and got out of the car, heading to her house. On the steps up to the door, she took a deep calming breath and forced a smile on her face. She stepped through her front door, immediately being greeted by Ellie.

"Hey! How was work?"

'_Let's see; I went undercover into a spy-killer's den, raced against a clock to save a man's life, watched a man be beaten and shot right in front of me, nearly got shot myself and argued with my work partner.'_ "Fine." She looked into the living room to see how many people were there, probably at least two dozen. "I thought you said '_some _of the guys'." She teased, putting her bag down and hanging her coat on the rack.

"Everyone wanted to be here for Tom. There are some of his college friends, as well as some of the other teachers from school." Tom had graduated GWU in the summer and was now a fourth grade teacher. "Go in and see him, I'll get you a beer." Liz headed into the living room, kissing Tom and sitting on the couch next to his wheelchair.

He asked quietly, leaning in. "Hey, can we talk for a sec, the guys are going to get me to start cooking the lasagne in a minute. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for going off on one earlier."

"You didn't go off on one-"

"Yeah I did, Lizzie, and I'm sorry. With your…Job, I know that you'll have to keep some things secret, and I want you to know that that's okay. Because no matter what, we'll get through it." He squeezed her hand in his.

The words came out of her mouth before she could think. "I found the envelope. The one with the proposal video in it."

Tom froze and shifted nervously. "And?"

She smiled at him. "What do you think?" He gave an excited laugh, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply, ignoring the whoops from everyone in the room. "But you're gonna have to ask me properly, you know?" She smiled back.

Tom didn't get a chance to say anything else before one of his college friends interrupted and started wheeling his chair into the kitchen. Liz laughed lightly and then sobered. She was in a crowded room with dozens of her friends. So why did she feel so alone?


End file.
